The Collective
by Seducing Reason
Summary: A collection of strange one-shots or would-be stories. If you don't like one, you might like another. There are sometimes DRASTIC differences in the stories. Some will be rated M. I have also put some old favorites here. CHECK IT OUT! Unedited, unashamed.
1. Go to Sleep Little Babe

**_This is a collection of one-shots that I have posted over a period of time for the category _SKY HIGH_. Please, they vary in genre, and some of the content is questionable, so if you are easily offended or don't like the story or stories you read, don't bitch at me for it. Thank you._**

**I will NOT also include the reviews that were given to me, though I may post the old disclaimers and author's notes. I won't post the old reviews so I can cherish them privately. SUCKERS! Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: Songs not mine, but it's an old folk song. I heard it way before O Brother Where Art Thou, so I don't need to give that movie credit for it. But I'll anyway, because I don't want no trouble. And I don't own nothing but a DVD copy of Sky High. This is NOT a song fic.**

**At Some Point In the Future... **

Clotting wounds, sore from head to toe. But not hating the chill as much as I did before. In fact, I could say I welcome it. I am starting to look forward to my death. I just wish the song would stop. It doesn't suit my mood at all, I'm afraid.

_go to sleep little babe  
go to sleep little babe_

I can't do anything anymore, I think snidely, but sit. Sit like some damned old woman in her rocking chair. Like an old woman, going on about how in the good old days, things were better. I thought it would never happen. Despite being aware of the passage of time, always hearing about it and seeing it follow my comrades, watching them crumble and fall one by one, I thought somehow I would never even live to see the day I would be too old... too damn _old_ to be allowed to fight.

They never told us.

_your momma's gone away and your daddy's gonna stay  
didn't leave nobody but the baby_

When you're young, it doesn't concern you. It's not just the selfishness of youth, it's the fact that you're too busy to worry yourself with it. Protect your skin, go to the gym, eat healthy. Maybe you'll live to be a hundred. Not forever, of course, we aren't so disillusioned as to believe that anymore. Mortality is inevitable, they told us. Just fight to the end, and don't look back.

_go to sleep little babe  
go to sleep little babe_

So I never believed I would live forever. Yet, in all my training, they forgot to mention the simple effects of aging as they wanted us too, probably because they expect us to be great and unstoppable forever. And we should have been great and unstoppable. In all the rush to let us know that the teachers could fight as well as the students, they forgot to tell us why we always held the upper hand against villains,and although it should have been obvious...

_everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn  
didn't leave nobody but the baby_

It escaped me.

_you're a sweet little babe  
you're a sweet little babe_

Gosh, you must wonder at my age, to be so damn bitter? Am I so old I'm cripple? So old that I stare aimlessly at a nursing home ceiling, waiting to die? Am I looking back after a long life with regret? Are these just the acrimonious words of an elderly woman? Staying only for a last farewell?

I can't help but laugh. You little fools. You don't even think about the future, do you? You don't I'll gather, because it's so far away! For some, it's incredibly soon.

_honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop  
gonna bring a bottle to the baby_

But no, these are not the cruel rants of a hardened old bitch. I'm not staring at the ceiling of a nursing home. Thank God, I think to myself bitterly. No, I'm lying up against the cold brick wall of a cold, brick building. I'm staring at the full moon, and I know that tears are falling from my eyes, although it may be hard for you to conceive.

_don't you weep pretty babe  
don't you weep pretty babe_

The moon is so beautiful, and I can't remember why I took it for granted so long. I bet you do, to, don't you? When the thing finally comes out from behind clouds, and somehow pours in over our darkened, winter-kissed lands, we still don't think about it. It's huge, hanging low in the sky, and I swear to you that's why I'm crying.

_she's long gone with her red shoes on  
gonna need another loving babe_

And that damn song is playing from in the distance at some house party, not too far away. Yet, no lights stream from anywhere except my beautiful moon. It's unbelievable the owners of the lightless house don't even know what happens at their own turf, this very lonely night. They think, power's out, yet the music still plays. Fools.

_go to sleep little babe  
go to sleep little babe_

God, I think, why can't I die in a warm place? Like a tropical paradise. I would love to see that warm sun one more time. I always have hated living up here. It disgusted me to even contemplate it. And, that damn song was not a tropical one. It mocks me as it tries to lull me into the dark of the chilly night. I'm so tired, I can't even groan as the cold stung my cheeks where icy tears fell. But the tears stop, and I sit, turning icy where fire once burned. Ah, how utterly poetic. And pathetic, I chide half-heartedly.

I see him. Standing like a prince with his back trees that ended just before the school property began. And I, facing him, my back to the wall of an old brick building, unable to move, too weak to sit up straight, hunched over like a sack of potatoes, legs uselessly curled behind me. Hands dangling without animation on either side. I think I must have looked just like a puppet.

_you and me and the devil makes three don't need no other lovin' babe_

I ranted before on how no one bothered to tell me how age could get me. Before I go, I'll tell you that I'm only thirty-one. You may or may not see it as old, but it was most assuredly my age that had done me in.

You see, if you don't become a super-hero, after graduation from Sky High, the people you went to school with are made to hunt you down and kill you, so you don't succeed as a villain. It's a perfect system, actually, and it cuts the number of villains considerably. Or it makes them smarter, I can't remember which.

They hunt you after you turn thirty. People you studied, teased, and laughed with. People you ate lunch with. No one ever makes it past thirty. _I'm thirty-one_. Nobody told me what to expect.

"Jesus, they did a number on your sorry ass, didn't they?" he remarks dryly.

I stare back, looking into his face, but unable to look up high enough to reach his eyes. I made it to thirty-one, you bastard. You can live with that for all your cowardly days. The crowning glory for your old man, if only he could see you now. You never wanted to be him, yet here you stand, his spitting image in the moonlight.

"Well, don't you have anything to say, Magenta?"

I won't lie. I don't have strength, and I don't have power. I wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to get married and raise my kids. I wouldn't even know if they got their powers. And, I wish he'd move, I want to watch the moon and let it engulf me once more.

It's too bad we weren't at the old floating school.

"Will," I choke out, throat parched. I've been holding this little baby in my fingers all day, waiting for him to arrive. Though they're numb, I can fumble enough to pull the ring. And, because his guard is down, he'll never know what hit him. I may even kill the bastard, if I'm lucky.

"Yes?"

"I loved you." I say without emotion. It doesn't mean anything anymore.

_go to sleep little babe  
go to sleep little babe_

He stiffens. Dimly, my wedding ring glints in the bright moonlight. His own band sparkles just out of my direct eye-sight. Then the last ring, a lovely little steel one, falls from my worthless fingers as my body chilled with the rush of air on my relaxing palms. The grenade falls as I relax.

"I wish they'd turn off that song." I say, rasping with the attempt at speech.

"What song?" He whispers.

_come lay bones on the alabaster stones  
and be my everlovin baby_


	2. In 24 hours

_**In 24 hours**_

_This work is rated M just to be safe._

**Unknown POV**

"I may have done things I'm not proud of," I said through clenched teeth as I gathered myself up by the end table next to me, previously next to the bookcase, "But I won't kill her!"

My head felt like it was on a teetering platform, my eyes burned from keeping them open so long. The bookcase that had hit me had nearly killed me, I was damn sure of that. And now, of course, the floor was more like water than a hard substance, so I tried very hard not to watch it, and keep my eyes on my opponent.

"We could have been great, you bastard!" he snarled, blood spreading down the front of his shirt as he staggered backward. His power was useless to him now, I thought savagely, then felt that pang of guilt.

"Why did you have to do this, _why?_" I screamed at him, agony and anger rushing out of me. In those last 24 hours, he'd shown what he had become. A man sick of humanity, a man tormented by his own failings... my best friend for years, why couldn't I see it? Why couldn't I stop him?

"If you would have just stuck to the plan, we wouldn't have to hide like dogs in the shadows! We wouldn't have to flee from normality, we could have been GREAT, you idiot!"

I closed my eyes, which I instantly regretted, and breathed out as I opened them again. Closing my eyes made the nausea worse, but they still burned like Hell. And although he may or may not have been bleeding to death as we spoke, he was still standing and therefore a threat. I saw the wooden stairs leading to the bedrooms above and wished I had never been born.

No time for self-pity, you moron, _move_!

I launched myself at them, nearly missed the handrail up. I pulled myself along rather nicely considering my state, and fell on the hardwood floor. I felt bitter at the very designers of this place, for not thinking of the Hell I was going through, but gathered enough strength to hoist myself up once again.

I don't know what I was thinking, and I had no idea what I was doing up there in the first place. Oh, God I was so tired. All the adrenaline that had with held sleep from me for the past twenty-four hours was leaving. My legs shook to stand. Not to mention that last blow was still lurking in my body, and the cut over my eye seemed to be open again.

Don't lean, don't _lean_.

It was all down to this. I never realized, _never_, realized what it would really mean to get back at them. I was all for battles like Save the Citizen, because I always had proven superior. We always won, the others left in shame, that was how it was done.

But I don't think it ever really occurred to me what it would mean to be that helpless doll dangling above jaws of uncaring steel. Then, when I saw her, a girl I had never seen before, had no relation to, didn't care about... it changed. I mean, It started all with that little girl.

You know how there are moments when everything makes sense? There aren't many, I assure you, but that was the one for me.

24 hours ago, maybe more. The most lovely thing there had been in my life for years. A beautiful girl of about four or five years old, babbling at what looked like a Barbie who'd seen better days, telling it secrets and sitting with her legs behind her. Playing serenely by herself.

And _him_, the man I had willingly befriended in Highschool, the one I thought understood me and vice-versa, had been within inches, mere _inches_ of slitting her pretty little neck. Did it even occur to him that she didn't have anything to do with what her father had done to us, or that she was too young to have even had powers? Or that she was perfectly innocent of everything that could ever been done, even in the smallest measure, to deserve death?

No guilt, no shame. He would have killed her to get back at Will Stronghold. He wanted her dead to cause Will to come after us, so we could kill him. Wanted Will to lose her, wanted Will to be too distraught to fight back, so we could topple the fearless leader of the group that always had outwitted us. Then they would all fall, one by one, and no one would stand in the way of us being US in society. So we could leave it all behind, so we could use our powers in our lives for our gain and have no one come against us, to finally be left alone.

A noble, cause, right?

I had never killed before, but it made so much sense when we thought out our plan. Of course, we thought, it's worked for others in the past, it should work for us.

I didn't care if it worked anymore. I thought I could do it, because I was so willing to do anything to be left alone and not be on the run for robbing banks and other, lesser crimes. I just didn't want any more trouble from that damn group.

But by God, I must not have thought about what it could possibly mean... a child, a kid, not another crime-fighting moron with a lousy power, a little girl who'd never even _gone_ to highschool. I thought, when I saw her, he would realize this too, and we would just brainstorm again.

But he was already behind her with a knife. So fast, remember.

"Speed!" I screamed, true horror, the _true_ horror of what he would have done hitting me. He looked up, and I stretched to grab him. He sliced my arms, but she had enough time to run away, and I held him before he could run after her, which was a miracle, considering. She went inside her house screaming, like I probably would have too.

So it began as a game of cat and mouse. I let him go after punching him. We were still in Will Stronghold's back yard. Will came to the back door when his daughter rushed in, and saw us struggling. Speed had the knife to my throat, I was choking him. It was a sight that no one had ever seen before, and it must have thrown him off. It gave us a chance to run off.

We both let go and ran in opposite directions. I hid, as Will went after the slower of the two: me. I hid for hours in a storm drain I had been flexible enough to slide through. I was a tired, battered old man, but that didn't mean I was done for.

I just didn't understand the significance of what had happened, or just how fucked up my friend and I were.

I got out, and went back to my apartment, expecting some ranting and raving if he was there. After all, what else could I expect? The shit had gone down wrong, and that was all there was to it. Still, I never thought for one second...

I came home to a smoldering heap of debris and crying neighbors, policemen and ambulances, and charred remains of people's lives. I was surprised, to say the very fucking least. I stared hopelessly at what had once been my home and gaped.

He had blown my apartment to bits.

I knew he had been into explosives because of his weird little brother, who had no powers. I didn't realize he wanted me dead so badly. The shock of it sent me reeling. He would rather have me dead than actually even ask what stopped me from killing a little girl.

There would be no talking. But I didn't want to kill my best friend.

His intentions for me were clear, and there was no place I could go where he couldn't find me. I mean, I went to my sister's house and he was already there. Luckily, she wasn't. But her house was almost destroyed when we were through. You can just imagine how we looked: two fight villains with a stupid powers tearing up a woman's house. It was scary, too, though I couldn't explain why.

I tried to get away when I left him unconscious two streets over, calling my sister at work to say I loved her and wanted her to get mom and her kids somewhere I didn't know about. I hitch-hiked into the next state, trying to drop asleep at a motel. I'd barely closed my eyes just to see Will standing above me, ready to kill me. I didn't know how he found me, and I didn't care. I had to run from him, because without Speed to back me up, I couldn't fight him.

So I went hiding in a sewer again. You'd honestly think he'd wise up, but no. Speed knew about how I hid, though, and must have learned from Will where I was generally located at, and went to find me, and all through the night we were at it again, trudging around it God knows what. He almost drowned me in the sewers.

"I'm still going to kill her, Lash, and I don't need your help to get those dumb fucks. You freaking moron, we could have had it all worked out!" He said as he dunked me into the water, holding me under. I must have passed out, because I woke up at the very lowest depths of a dark, wet hole underneath a street, where I must have drifted when he thought I was dead.

For many hours, I drifted there, barely able to breathe, unable to find a wall, not able to touch the ground with my feet, having to hold what I could of the disgusting ceiling and feel along for handholds or latches or holes to get out of. I must have gone insane I was so sick with fear. And I was getting tired. I got so very tired, and my limbs felt like lead. I was crying and moaning without words, a very unmanly worm in a bottomless pit.

I began to think strange thoughts. About that little girl and her Barbie doll, about how I should have let Will take me in, about how I should have married Sarah when I had the chance, about how Speed loved to drink only when football season came around. Fear left me when I couldn't move any more, and I just bobbed in sewage. Slimy, smelly, disease ridden sewage. And I just waited to be too tired to stay awake and drown, wondering why I didn't drown before, when I had passed out and somehow floated down there.

Luck, I'm sure, but I knew my luck had run out.

Then, a rushing of water confirmed it. I was swept under, too tired to even try to fight it, and my hands dragged almost powerlessly against the wall... An opening in the ceiling! Not just any opening, but an opening with bars, I could feel them! I was finally under a man hole of some sort!

The rest is crazy. Impossible, all of it, I know, totally insane. I grabbed the bottom bar and used my stretching powers to snake to the top of the set of bars with my hands, I only managed to pull my head out, and thank the powers that be that the water wasn't going any faster.

I stayed like that trying to regain a little strength then pulled my body up, not using strength, but my stretch. By shortening my arms, I was able to pull myself to the top, and in one burst popped the top of the man hole onto a suburban street in the middle of the day.

From there, I stayed on the ground in the sun for a long while. I knew what I had to do.

I checked into another hotel, and washed up. I didn't sleep. I got ready, praying I hadn't contracted something nefarious down under in the bowels of a strange city. I rested only enough to travel back, still hitch-hiking, into the city I lived.

I went directly to Will's, where already I could see Speed's destruction. I was too late, I thought. Too freakin' late.

Then I saw Speed, carrying a crying little girl out, holding a knife to her throat as he backed away slowly. Will and his wife stood at the door, panic-stricken, pale and helpless. I thought I could kill Will. I could sneak up behind him and kill him without a thought. I could get in good with speed again, the little girl wouldn't have to die.

That's what I wanted to believe. But I knew that Speed would kill her anyway as punishment to me. And I found I couldn't hate Will enough to let her die...that much was a fact. I didn't want to kill _anyone_. I wanted to be left alone, that's different. Was it worth death? I thought it would be, but there are no words to describe why it's not.

No words, not even I'm sorry would begin to describe why it's not worth it.

I walked quietly behind him. Will was so focused on him and what he was saying, he didn't notice me. I was behind Speed, on another lovely lawn which all happy people seem to have. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't have to do anything. Will thought he saw a chance, and lunged with all his might at Speed, who lifted the knife just in time to get Will, being that much more faster.

There was a pause. Will looked down at his chest. He looked at his little girl. His eyes clouded over, and Speed pushed him off.

I didn't know if Will's wife had any powers, but I wasn't willing to find out. I shoved my shock aside and grabbed Will's daughter away before Speed knew what had happened. I ended up having her clutched in my arms, her screaming, face red, kicking and all. Again, I didn't blame her. I put her down behind me, where she bawled and beat at my sore legs.

"Lash, you freak, you're alive?" He stuttered.

It didn't take long for him to recover from his shock. He barreled into me before I could dodge, and the ground we landed on was where we grappled for the knife.

Some how, I had the knife.

Speed raced past Will's widow, who was cowering in anguish next to her daughter. Too stunned, too dead inside to try and fight, to even move. I raced into the house, where we fought again for the knife. Only, I managed to get a few cuts in, stabbing him in the gut.

He threw us with all his weight on me, into the book case behind me, backed away as the damn thing fell on me. I pushed it off, or at least moved it off so I could slowly come from under it. The first thing I saw was the clock, next to where Speed was leaning, gasping for air. I realized that two hours after the day before, we sat, criminals in waiting, in Speed's car and waited for the right moment to sneak into the house to kill a little girl.

A full twenty-four hours had past. I was changed. Speed was changed. And I knew the difference between a villain and a bad guy. I was a criminal, yes, but not a killer.

Speed was.

Why didn't Will leave after grappling with me and Speed, to some safe location? Why did I think I would be able to keep a look out was Speed killed his daughter? Why wouldn't that woman kill Speed for killing her husband, or a least call the cops?

Now you know how I got there.

Still dizzy from the blow to my body that the bookcase had offered, still trying to steady myself from the flight up the stairs, I looked down to see Speed slowly and with much effort lift himself to stand at the bottom of the stairs. He must have fallen sometime during my rush. He looked angry.

"All you had to do was follow though, Lash, and we would have had it made. But you were too chicken to kill a little girl!" he spat, blood oozing from his lips like foam.

"No," I said, feeling no better than he looked, thinking about what I had gone through to stop him from killing her, and all that would now make sense when I fought against the 'good guys'. Like I said, everything made sense now. Why people hated us, why super-heros fought against us, why life was so good and evil.

Children. Yours, mine... the world is theirs before it's ours. So precious are their lives that people fight and die for it. Argue politics for it. Those who don't understand it become Speed. Obviously there is more to it than that, so much more to that fighting, so much more to the lives and world we want to protect, but... I think I had an iota of what made my once so hated enemies tick.

I suppose they weren't that bad, then.

"You, Speed, are the real coward," I spat. "You wanted to kill a little girl to get to Will. You could have gone for Will. _We_ could have gone for Will. We should have kept trying for him, Speed. But we were too scared to try. At least I stopped you."

"You think you're such a saint." he started up the stairs in faltering steps. I would make sure he didn't reach the top. "But, you're just as bad as me."

"I never killed."

"But you would have."

True. "I'll kill you."

I flung myself forward with all my limited strength, feet first, into Speed's chest. He lost his grip on the stairs, and we both headed down the stairs in a our own fashions. I landed on my ass on the stairs, smacking my head again, knowing perfectly well if I lived _this_ concussion I would die from the _last_ one.

But Speed was already dead. He didn't have a chance to bleed to death; his neck snapped from the impact of landing backwards down the stairs.

And I just stared up, wondering if I would go to prison, not sure if I cared. Just 24 hours ago, I thought as everything started turning grey, I was alive. I was alive, and my best friend wasn't a killer.

I really want kids.


	3. The Last Laugh

**Lash's POV**

Detention was nothing. When you're the child of a super-hero, villain or not, attempted murder of civilians in question or no, or if you've ever tried to destroy a school or not, you will not face the same consequences as a normal person. If we had tried to take over a normal school, we would be in prison awaiting trial. We would never be free of the 'mistake' we made. Never.

But thank God for Sky High.

Gwen would go to prison. She was technically the only one old enough, and had to pay for previous crimes, now that everyone knew who she was. That idiot had an elaborate scheme that we all fell for, and she could have done so much if she had been a little less egotistical. And I'm one to talk.

But as for the rest of us? We had to go into group therapy after school everyday. We were under surveillance, until Principal Powers decided whether we were a REAL threat or not. It meant just having to wear a tracking bracelet. All it really did was keep track of your whereabouts, and how many times you used your powers.

Basically, if we could go for one year without using our powers or doing anything illegal, we would be left alone as civilians. Only an adult would make things so nice for a criminal. The argument was that we had been consumed by our powers, and then later we said that Gwen brainwashed us.

So, after our senior year, graduating without honors or titles, because we would never get the "privilege" of protecting society, our year long surveillance ended. We faced a trial of our peers, conducted secretly at Sky High during that long summer. Only super-heros came. They decided what was best.

We were young, couldn't we at least have a chance to prove we weren't all bad?

Sure. But there's a catch.

Anything to stay out of prison, right?

You can never use your powers again.

Okay.

Do you know what I did in those days after that? I took a job washing dishes in a restaurant owned by my Dad. I spent all my time working to pay the rent of my new apartment outside of the city in next to the State Penitentiary. I avoided my Dad like crazy. I never contacted my family.

But in a nutshell, two years after the second trial, my buddy Speed, whom I hadn't seen since went to prison for breaking his house arrest rules. He used his powers to outrun some cops after robbing a bank. He told me in his phone call that he just needed some cash, was all. Like Gwen, he was in a prison for Super-Villains.

I felt bad for three reasons. One, he was my friend and I knew what it must have done to him to not be able to use the powers he had controlled ever since he could remember. Two, I never called him, and he never called me, so it was a shock to have him call me after he was arrested. I felt like maybe I should have called him more, but...And three? I felt bad because I knew he would somehow end up in prison ever since I met him freshman year in power placement.

Penny was better off than both of us. She was in Israel on one of those missions trips. Youth leader, I heard. Married now. Good woman. Probably still over there.

Slowly, this was what my life became. Consumed by rage and bitterness, dying for revenge but striving to stay away and forget it all. I was one big mess, and all I wanted was for the good guys to fail at something. Anything. Everything.

Then, it happened. No one knows how, or what, but I've pieced together what must have with the information that I had collected over the years

Super heros in our country were immediately sent to deal with the "problem". But the Villains had something we didn't. The normal public didn't know it, but their leading Mad Scientist had created something to wipe out most of the normal population. I still do not know what it was. Kind of like a bad X-men comic. But there were no organized crime fighting groups to save us this time. Not the kind I guess we needed.

And the villains succeeded in wiping out most, but not all of the normal population of the world.

I don't know how they did it, and thinking about it makes my freakin' head hurt. All I know is I woke up, got dressed, saw the power was out in my building again, and walked out of my building to see my block, which comprised of sagging houses with no lawns and chain-link fences, totally deserted.

I went into the city and found the same thing, with people running around like crazy doing absolutely nothing. There was looting for the few who were left, and of those who didn't loot, there weren't enough to start a community.

And what was the best part of all this?

Sky High, the school I had gone to, had crashed, somehow, into the center of the city.

Which is how I knew that our super heros had finally failed.


	4. Unofficial Sequel

_**Rated T. Character death. Unofficial sequel to Confessions from a friend**_

**_Will's POV_**, **_monologue_**

I don't know what it's like for other people, or if you even care, but I was pretty ignorant of the whole thing, probably for months. Months of going about and just living the life of a good guy who had everything a guy could want. Sure, I messed around. Hey, I wasn't_ married_ to you, I wanted to date other girls, and I'm sure that you wanted to date other guys.

So, we did the typical break-up-and-get-back-together-later thing. I mean, you meant a lot to me, I loved you, even though I wasn't a good boyfriend. My best friend since preschool, the first girl I ever kissed, my first time, the only girl who cared about me as Will Stronghold the guy, not the ever popular hero. I may not have been great to you all the time, but you were really the one I loved most. I didn't _love_ the other girls.

I was always sorry. I _knew_ that they weren't you, and I _knew_ I would never have with them what I did with you. I mean, it was just flirting, and okay, twice it was sex. But I didn't love them, Layla, I loved you. You were my girl. I wanted to marry you, not them. You're the kinda girl a guy could marry.

I guess I didn't realize what you meant, or how little I appreciated you until that night. And, although I know I was a jerk, I can't believe what you did to me...

Maybe I should have seen it coming.

You told me how you loved me, but I hurt you all the time. You said that you would stick by me as long as you loved me. You also said you wished you didn't love me, and started crying. Remember how I held you? It was at my house, after we watched that movie you said you hated. I felt bad, then. I can't go back and change the past. At least I never cheated on you when we were together, right?

There was nothing I could say then, and there isn't much left to say now. My little flower-child, loves plants, animals and people, can't make lemons. Without you we wouldn't have won against Gwen. Without you I'm only half a person. I feel like someone ripped the skin off of me, and I'm wandering around naked and dying. I'm not poetic, I know but I do love you. And I did love you then too.

I came over to your place to surprise you with flowers. I wanted to make a clean start, to never be with another girl other than you again. We were perfect for each other, and you were just the one for me, I knew it.

I walked in, not bothering to knock, because your parents know me so well. They weren't there this time, but they seemed to have only just gone. You know how a house just feels like someone just left? It seemed like that. I didn't know if you were there or not, so I just walked upstair to your room, the only room up there, and saw the door open a crack. The lights were on. I figured I would just leave them on your bed and talk to you at school.

This was too good to be said on the phone.

But I stopped when I came close to your door, and realized I heard something... weird. I thought that maybe you were... well, you know, we guys do it when we're alone and bored, so I figured you might too. I felt kinda embarrassed, felt blood rush to my face, and planned to just leave then and try not to be shocked for the rest of my life. I kinda smiled, too, thinking dirty thoughts like a boyfriend just might.

Then I heard a guy's grunting.

I remember hitting the door so hard it cracked. Literally burst in two. And I stood aghast at what I saw, feeling rage slip down into the tips of my fingers and up into my face. It spread like a disease, eating away in every pore of my being.

Warren Peace, my best friend after you, hovering over your perfect body, his back naked to me, covered only by your green sheets. You sprung like rabbits out of your bed when I came in, you delicately trying to cover yourself with the sheets left by Warren, who was just as nude as the day he was born.

Oh I swear, I didn't mean to go so far, I was just so angry. I'm so sorry, baby.

"My friend! You were supposed to be my friend!" I screamed, feeling like a wrathful Greek god.

"Oh, Will! What are you doing here?" You screamed like I was some axe-murderer on a rampage. Which, if it wasn't so close to the truth might me funny.

I turned, not wanting to see anymore, wanting to make the image go away. But it wouldn't, it was burned into my eyeballs. I roared and threw the roses on the ground, feeling some of the thorns break through the plastic and into my hand. I didn't care. I could hardly feel it. I moved down the stairs like a raving lunatic.

Soon after I made it to the bottom, Warren, followed by you, shouting your reasons.

"I need just as much love as anyone, Will. You never gave anything to me!" You screamed.

I couldn't even stop myself, it was like I was someone else and you were someone else. Oh, God, how I wish I could have stopped myself. I keep seeing myself launching at Warren, and tearing a hole through the wall where he had been standing.

I didn't see red, or anything like that, but I didn't feel anything but rage. It consumed and engulfed me. Warren's flame burned around us and melted away my skin, but the burn wasn't enough to make me let go of his throat. I clutched him until I felt his windpipe collapse. His fire raged onto me, and I felt it, but it wasn't the pain I noticed at all.

I crushed his neck, breaking the fragile stem that keeps us alive.

I got up, his body totally in flames, my body a torch, and felt the burn. I felt the fire eating away at my skin, I saw the horror in your eyes with the tears as you cried his name, not mine, in grief. I tried to put myself out, as the pain ate every single one of my feeling receptors on me. I screamed an inhuman growl, and couldn't even remember that you were there, or what I had done.

I could hear one thing.

"I should have never loved you." You said.

And the truth is Layla, I love you. I always will.

It wasn't Warren, was it? It was me. And I have forever to think about it. But I love you Layla and I always will.


	5. The Villain

**Disclaimer: NOT MINE! **These are some of the musings of Baron Battle, and some aren't pleasant. You have been warned.

Battle's P.O.V.

I always was a villain. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I was born and raised on the streets, and was forever chased and hunted by fanatics. And no, I'm not talking about Bible thumping fanatics, I'm talking about the witch-burning psychos that always have a zealous gleam for carnage in their eyes. However, even without my powers, I would have been thus hunted for my... particular tastes.

To tell you where I come from would take a lifetime, so I will summerize so you can grasp my background. I do remember a woman who raised me until I was seven, but she was not my mother. I think she was my aunt. She was not particularly beautiful, but she was intelligent and articulate. And if I was villainous, she was maniacal.

She had the same powers I had, and taught me to control them. I suppose that in her own way, that woman was fond of me. You see, I was the type of child who liked to pull the wings off a fly to watch him in misery. I always was just a little...sadistic. Nevertheless, that woman never doubted me, insulted me, or raised a hand to me. She was protective and I might stretch to say loving, but this was in a way you wouldn't understand. And I am grateful to her.

When I was about seven, though, her own enemies had caught up to her. I came home from whatever school I was in at the time, and walked in to her living room to find three vicious men waiting for me. They took pleasure in having me watch as the gang-raped her and throttled her to death. Evil men, preying on my dear Auntie.

I don't exactly know why she was unable to defend herself, but I do remember her thrown at my feet, smiling in a leering manner at them, then at me, before laughing whatever life she had left in her body out. My guess today is that she wanted to die. Life was no longer as exciting as the prospect of death to her. More and more, I see things her way.

After they were done with her, they wanted to dispose of me next, but in a quick manner. These men were my first kills, by the by. After setting them on fire, I torched the house, as a salute to her, and went about my merry way. It didn't even occur to me to be afraid of killing them. It was all too natural for me. I felt remorse at losing her though, as she was my only friend, but I am not like you, and in a few days, my grief was gone. Although, I never did lose my fondness of her.

After two years on the streets, I was somehow picked up and put in a foster home. I don't know how that happened, but I do remember the scene I caused at a gas station in New England. That's how I ended up being taken in by super-heros. I used them, and they knew it. They felt if I only adjusted, I would be a great hero.

And because I was a smart you man, I finished my studies and ate my vegetables, keeping my thoughts and eccentricities to myself, and even fought them. But not out of respect or love for the people who took me in. They were simple-minded, all-American people whom mattered very little.

No, I battled with myself because of her.

All my life I was this vile thing that people avoided, or confronted out of fear. I was sent to Sky High out of the hope that people like me could be cured of villainy with the right guilt. When I saw her, I knew she was going to be different. She moved different, she talked different, and she was no simpering idiot or a self-righteous bitch. She was this untouchable perfect being that could do anything. Demure, poised, protective... good, kind, understanding, just about everything that I could never hope to be.

I cannot explain how she looked, as I would at this point, because I would sound like a love-stricken fool. All I need to tell you is that she was the very epitome of grace and delicacy. Venus was plain in comparison, and I was not the first to notice. I cannot explain how badly I wanted to be that boy at her side, touching ever-so-softly her hand, noting her every move.

Needless to say, I was a little obsessed. She was perfect, you see, and I desired her affection and approval more than anything else. I would go up behind her between classes to whisper sweet obscenities in her ear, just to see the blush tint her cheeks. If I found myself anywhere near her, I would be held captive by the vision she created.

We did nothing but banter. We bandied words and insults about like they were leaves. She was my rival then, I suppose. I loved the interactions we had, and I cherished her words whether they were offensive or not. I think, to be honest, she liked talking to me, but she would never admit it. Women are silly creatures like that. Even then, I loved her.

I still feel the same way about her.

There was a little place just outside of town where she went to eat ice-cream on Fridays. She always went by herself, probably to escape the annoying chatter those moron-friends created at school. Or perhaps she just wanted the peace. Either way, she was alone there, and only there.

One time, I passed by this place as it was closing, and who should come out but my lovely object of affection. This time, however, no small smile was played on her lips, and no mischievous gleam glinted in her eyes.

She was in tears. Her face was totally devoid of emotion, but her eyes were wet, red and tormented. She was walking home that night. And something I had never felt before stabbed me in the chest. The feeling was so powerful I actually touched my chest to see if I was bleeding. I wanted nothing more than to soothe her, and walked up behind her.

She stopped where she stood. A shiver of fear ran down her back, and you should know by now why.

"I know that's you," she said in a voice husky with emotion, "and I don't want to talk to you."

As if I could be deterred so easily. "I don't want to hurt you," I said, this time meaning it, "I want to help. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. Just, please, don't cry." And I meant that too.

She turned around, anger and sadness clouding her face. "Take care of me? Is that what you mean? Am I something to be taken _care_ of? You don't even know what I'm crying about."

"A person doesn't always need to know the _why_. And don't you want to be taken care of? It would be tiresome to take care of yourself all the time." I let a pause slip in, so she would digest what I was saying. "Wouldn't you like to have someone there for you once in a while? I can do that. Or at least try."

Her face changed, to a look of surprise and confusion, then she went back to her sad glare. I thought perhaps I had gone too far, too quickly. There was no turning back, however. "You can't mean that."

"I do mean it, I want to take care of you if you would let me. What makes you cry is of great interest to me." I said, instantly wishing I hadn't. She would never listen to me now. I was a raving idiot to her. She would see through me, see my flaws. I was not the hero for her world, I couldn't save her. She knew... she must have known.

"What do you know about what makes me cry? All you do is be obscene." She shouted in frustration.

"I don't know anything, but I want to know." I said. My heart, as I'm sure that's what it was, twisted inside my chest. I walked toward her and she recoiled fast.

"Don't." She snapped as I was close enough to touch her. She looked very passionate in her anger. Goddesses in mythology are based on women like this.

"Why not?" My heart was hammering inside my chest; I had never felt so many emotions all at once in my entire life. Nothing else mattered to me. And... I just burned to touch her. My fingers itched and twitched. I felt like my arms weren't the only things on fire anymore.

She had an odd look in her eyes. I couldn't decipher it, but it looked something like longing to me. I'm not exactly the best judge of these things. However, I was willing to take a chance. I must have hit something inside of her.

"Let me touch you." I said. "I can make the pain go away." I knew I could not, but I was more than willing to try.

She didn't object... much. "Why?"

Why did she have to ask such a stupid question? "I want to."

I never knew what had upset her. But in the next instant, I grabbed her face, which felt so good to touch, and kissed her. We ended up running over to an elementary school playground, because that was as far as I could go for privacy, and we made love in the cool grass. And that was how it was up until graduation. Frenzied, passionate, and secret. After all, she would be as alienated as me if anyone knew.

Graduation came, and went. I was not assigned a city or place to protect, as all of them knew I would be protecting no one. In fact, I became her arch nemesis within a month. That was how it was supposed to be and we both knew it. Everyone expected me to become the villain, and they knew I would be hers.

I enjoyed that role. And on more than one occasion, I seduced her out of saving the day. Finally, after years of toying with the villain role, I convinced her to marry me. It was far too easy. The deal was that I would no longer bully her work, and she would stay with me. It wasn't something she was fully opposed to.

Then she had a son. I named him Warren, and it was the only thing I could give him of that nature. If you've ever had children, you will understand the need to protect and teach them all you know. I loved my son more than life itself, and I made sure he at least had me where I had lacked my own father... while I could.

Naturally, she took to motherhood like a duck to water, and I figured out how to be a father over time. I was finally... whole. I did my best to teach him how to be like his mother, as I knew I didn't want him to be like me. I spent _ten years_ trying to make sure he would conquer the demons that had plagued me all my life. I wanted to make sure...

But my past caught up with me. The Commander had me thrown away in a prison, cut away from my wife and son. I was an evil man, paying for evil deeds. The demons I fought for so long finally took over, and after escaping the first time, I made sure that the commander would remember who he was fighting. I spent three years on the run, torturing past associates of his.

I think I went too far when I managed to destroy an entire city. All I remember is the Commander talking about justice prevailing, seeing red, and setting a blaze to the town. The screams were nothing. The horror of the scene was music to me. The bloodbath was something that had been in me all along, barely suppressed.

It was not important to me that I watched children my son's age burn to death in writhing agony, and it mattered little that a woman who looked exactly like my dear Auntie was screaming and clawing at my arms right as I snapped her neck. No one held my interest, no deed beyond me. I was so angry, so terribly angry...

Yet, even as I had the Commander on his very knees, not ready to give up but on the verge of death anyway, what mattered was her. And when I was finished raging, I thought of what it would do to her to know I had done what I promised I wouldn't do. Her face in tears flashed before my eyes, and I had to stop. I _couldn't._ I wanted to kill him, oh yes I did, but I wanted to please her _more_.

I let him win. I had to. I had to. Don't you see? She would never forgive. What kind of husband would sully his wife's name? What kind of man is that? Not a man at all, but a beast, an _animal_. Something not meant to be free. Can't you understand?

And my son? How would he live knowing this? I did it for him. I did it for her. For them.

As I said before, I have always been a villain.


	6. A Mother's Love

**DISCLAIMER: Not mine. **

Warren's Mom finally tells her story. I suppose she counts as a Mary Sue, but I don't like her and I hope she suffers. So maybe not. Who can say?

Mother's POV

I don't know what anybody remembers of me in highschool. I used to be the girl that everyone knew would grow up to be something, but I'm not gloating. I never understood what anyone saw in me back then. I was probably as forgettable then as I am now. At least, to most people.

I was one of those girls that everyone wants to be; beautiful, smart, balanced, and at all times, totally in control. I had many friends, good grades, picture perfect parents, and last but not least, the perfect boyfriend, the quarterback of the best team in the state. All my teachers liked me, I even had the token annoying brother.

But my friends, all those things make you hollow. I wasn't even remotely interesting. I didn't have a single dirty secret, and I never cheated, stole, or drank. No parties, just perfection all the time. I even wanted to be a cheerleader, for a short time. I had everything going for me, everything, and I still felt empty. And I _was_ empty.

Freshman year I was placed as a hero for my special abilities. I knew I would be, simply because that's how things went for me. The only thing I really had going for me at all back then was the fact that I knew I would one day save someone's life and I would have a purpose in that. That's all I wanted; purpose. I wanted to help real people, and I couldn't wait.

Surrounded by heros and kids with great powers, one still might have been tempted to forget that the whole reason we were at school was to save people's lives with our gifts. I never forgot that, but it seemed most the time the others did. Now, I loved my friends, but all they wanted to do was show off and pick on side-kicks, which I was never into doing. I wasn't very brave, so I never stood up to them either.

Then there was my guilty pleasure...

My life consisted of hanging out with good-guys and their girls, doing my homework, setting an example for my family as the perfect person. I was an empty shell, but I didn't really realize how shallow my life was until I met the one person that seemed to swallow us all with his complexity. Of course, you know who I mean. Barron Battle, the ultimate villain.

I met him freshman year, and from the moment Steve and Josie branded him as dangerous, which those super-snobs were prone to do, I was totally enamored of him. He spouted philosophy in class, he walked around with kids labeled 'bad news', he wouldn't cut his hair... and though he was young he'd been to Woodstock, they said. He loved art, he hated the establishment, and he thought that anarchy was the only way to reorganize the world into a perfect utopia.

I wasn't sure about that, but I was in love. He stood for everything that I couldn't, and he was everything I was against. He was crude and vicious. He loved to talk about love and hate as though they were the same thing.

Since I knew all along he was going to be my downfall if I let him, I made myself stay the empty shell that I knew he couldn't hurt. I made sure he had no idea how thoughtlessly lost with him I was by making sure I was the barb that my friends sent to him. He didn't hang out with us, yet I always saw him around my friends with more than a few words to say about us.

I made sure that he knew of my dislike for him, and I made sure he didn't know about how unsettled his presence made me. I tried to mask my growing attraction with hate, but that hole inside me grew... and I had no idea why.

It all broke junior year. I didn't date, and as we left the football game... (the losers, which is just crazy to me because of all the super-powered morons we had on the team,) I was yet again without a one. All of my friends had their own, so I felt the burn of being alone...again.

They always were too nice, too mean, too ugly, too horny, too stupid, or just plain unattractive to me. You know what I mean, I know you do. But I knew what the truth was, all along... they weren't him. I bet you know what I mean there, too.

So I was thinking about him as I reached my car, a crappy little thing that was falling apart on me. I don't know what it was, it was too shameful for me to remember. All I know is that it wouldn't start when I gunned the engine. And after that losing game and being alone, I was too depressed to just find a phone and call for help.

I sat in the driver's seat, crying softly so that no one would think I was having a seizure. I just wanted to be left alone, and I did my best to make sure I didn't draw attention. However, if you are anything like me, you would know that no one leaves you alone when you want to be left alone.

There he was, the very epitome of my sorrows. I wanted to hit him.

He tapped on my window to get my attention. It wasn't a mean tap, but a curious one. His brow was furrowed in a most adorable way, and I felt compelled to roll down the window. He actually looked concerned. I found that interesting for an anarchist.

"Are you OK?" He asked. His voice was soothingly deep and hard to resist. He had no idea, but I loved it most when I heard him laugh. His voice was like rich chocolate to me.

"No, I'm not..." I said after watching his face for a while, deciding to tell him just exactly what I thought of the matter at hand.

He kneeled down to my tiny car and rested his hands and head on my window. That put him about eye-gouging level if I got too vengeful. "Poor girl, always putting on a show for the rest of the world."

I blinked in surprise at him, totally taken aback. "What?"

He rolled his shoulders. "Nothing. Why don't you come out of the car so my back doesn't start to kill me here?"

Curiouser and curiouser. "I think if I stepped out of my car you would just try to steal it, and why in the world would I want to talk to you?" I sneered. I couldn't believe just how nasty I felt toward him, but...

He didn't seem the least fazed by the comment. "I have a far better car, and I said nothing about talking, but if that's what you want to do, then I guess we could do that." He winked at me after that last bit.

I rolled my eyes.

He clicked his tongue at me. "Now, it wouldn't be fair of you to make assumptions without at least talking to me first, babe."

"Don't call me babe." I snapped. I got out of the car reluctantly for reasons beyond myself. I felt drawn to. I felt compelled, pulled, pushed, if you will. I certainly knew I shouldn't have.

We both ended up leaning on my car in the middle of a deserted parking lot in the middle of the night. No place would have been more appropriate, I think.

"So, babe, what's the problem?" He asked hunching his shoulders with his head laid back. I had the most irrepressible urge to touch his hair. An unruly mess, for certain.

"I don't know that you would understand." I said sadly. I just wanted to try to be nice for him this one time, just once, before I had to face the rest of my life.

"I think I do without you saying. If you wanted my opinion, which I know you don't, I would say that you are just as trapped as I am." He gave me a very meaningful look for someone who looked as casual as he did against my car.

"Trapped is a good word. Why are you being nice to me?" I asked softly, genuinely curious. He was always very fascinating to me, everything about him was an enigma. To unlock that puzzle would be fun for me.

"Have I ever not been nice you? Ever? I do detest your friends, but I could never truly be mean to _you_."

That's strange. "Why?"

"You aren't one of them, babe. You're like me."

I snorted in derision. "I think not, _babe_. Unlike you, I believe that we need a government."

"And why do you think I believe we don't?" he asked.

"I don't know, maybe you're crazy like everyone says."

He moved to stand in front of me, and I hardly noticed that he was closer than I would allow most of my friends. It didn't register that he had his head lowered to mine in a way that was most brazen. Or that he had that _look _in his eyes.

"The way you need order, I need chaos. I already know who you are, babe, and I also know that I am everything opposite you. Do you believe that without darkness, there would be light? I don't." His face was mere inches away from mine, the proximity disconcerting.

"What are you saying?" Man I felt dumb, but I just had know.

"You're both right and wrong, babe. You are like me, and you are my exact opposite. Do you want to know a secret? I'm in love with you, and I have been since the day we met in the gym. But the real secret is that you've been love with me too."

I stared, dumbfounded. "You're crazy."

But he just smiled. "Please, you may fool everyone else, babe, but you don't fool me."

"Who are you, Casanova? Stop calling me babe." I said irritably. So what if he was right? He was still the enemy, right?

"If you don't love me, prove it." He demanded.

"And just what proof haven't I given you yet? What more proof do you need?"I asked. I think I was just a teeny bit desperate to prove to him that I didn't love him.

"Kiss me."

"What will that prove?"

"Everything."

That kiss took place almost without my knowledge. Well, my prissy half's knowledge. My other half couldn't believe the release of emotions that seemed to control me. I was shocked at how well he seemed to fit against me. It seemed so...I guess I felt full, where I had felt empty.

I guess he had his answer. But I still wasn't ready to give in. "Don't tell anyone, please."

In all seriousness, he nodded.

But from then on, he was everywhere I was. He sat behind me in three of my classes, which he didn't before...sit behind me, I mean. he followed me around despite my comments about him at lunch, his whispers of things best not said rang in my ears for hours and I could still feel the blush burn my cheeks even late at night.

And I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it.

Naturally, I began to date him in secret. Oh the things we did when no one was looking! I was easy to ignore, for my group. And him? He never really talked to anyone, so there was no danger of anyone knowing about us.

You might find it weird that we told no one. Wrong. I was very closely monitored by my father, the typical tyrant type, someone my own guilty pleasure couldn't very well fight with his fists, like he was so used to doing.

I know it was wrong, but I thought if I just satisfied the craving the whole thing would go away. It didn't work like that, of course. And soon it was senior year, with us still enthralled with each other. Yeah, I lost all my innocence with him, and yeah he seemed to only get more violent with passing time, but around him... I was no longer empty, and I wasn't...alone.

He was never violent around me. Never once did he put me down, or hit me, or treat me bad in any way. But his radical views were not lightly taken by the other heros. The administration kicked him down time and again, never defending him when the others would try to get him to finally attack them. All they wanted was a reason to hurt him. I knew it, and I saw it, but he wouldn't let me get involved.

And at the end of the year, everyone knew about us. I don't know how, but Steve Stronghold had found out and told everyone. But I was so tired of hiding, I didn't try to defend myself, even when my love did. I remember the girls throwing cake at my dress during prom, which was a mistake to go to in the first place. He, ever my knight in shining armor, stood in front of me as he led me away.

As if it were a joke, we still got hero titles at graduation. My father had put me on lock down, my mother refused to talk to me, my brother was threatened at school... Barron Battle had ideas that scared them, you see. I always thought his ideas were crazy, but never did I understand what they meant to them or him. I was so naive.

They didn't give him a city to protect. They gave him a frightening costume with the promise that they would call him only in desperation. Unspoken, but still a promise. Yet it was what they had done to _me_ that destroyed what was left of his compassion for them.

We eloped right out of high school. It was hard, especially since we spent almost a year on the streets. Having powers doesn't mean you can do everything. It was far to dangerous to even use our powers alone for fear that someone might exploit us. Or expose us.

We couldn't get normal jobs for a long time, because we couldn't put Sky High on our applications. We couldn't risk other hero's coming to track us down. He was public enemy number one before we even left the city. He always protected me, and I was always there when he couldn't take on all of the enemies.

Even after we put ourselves through college, finally, we stayed like that. I got a job as a legal assistant, he got a job as computer programmer. We caused no one trouble. We took care of ourselves. I don't know how we made enough money to do it all. But in the end, we did pretty well, and bought a house in a lovely neighborhood. Then I had twins.

One died shortly after birth. The other I named Warren, because his life saved mine after that. Warren means 'to preserve', if you wonder what it means. That boy was the real reason I survived. As for my husband...

Barron Battle was arrested thirteen years after the birth or Warren. He was sentenced for crimes I had never known about. The same crimes that probably had paid for our house and our college tuition. I forgave him for them, but I was never really able to forgive him for abandoning his son. Since he has been incarcerated, I have not talked to or visited him. I can't. I just can't.

I remarried, because after they took him, I didn't have anything to lean back on. Divorce was inevitable after that. I couldn't have him affecting Warren, even if I loved him. My life seemed to fall away again, this time I could do nothing to stop it. After all, without him, I was nothing. I ended up having another son, and two daughters, all of them looking like me. They looked nothing like their father. For that I was grateful. I hated that man. He was no Barron.

I have trouble with Warren. No, he's not a troublesome child, as his step-father seems to think, but he knows how things should be, and he won't accept that I have given up on them. He won't give up on me, just like his father. But these aren't the thing that give me trouble. Warren, you see, looks exactly like his father, but he inherited my powers.

He is both of us. Light and dark. And this haunts me at night in the arms of another man, and I know it haunts his father in his sterile cell at the same time at night, as he counts his bittersweet blessings. After all, we are alike.

But Warren is his father's son. And I am empty.

I just hope my son will not be.


	7. Confessions from a Friend

1**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the twisted idea._**

**_Author's Note: _**Why don't I ever write about Ayame and Rikimaru? Or for that matter, why not Rufio, the king of the lost boys? Hell, why don't I write about Jareth and Sarah, my first loves? I'll never know. All I know is that I've been trying my hand at romance. So tell me if I'm any good, because I'm dying to know.

**Monologue from Warren**

Yeah, I touched her. I did more than touch her, in fact. I did the one thing for her that you could never do, Will Stronghold: I made love to the girl of your dreams. Layla Greenleaf was mine because you decided she wasn't good enough for the boy who has everything. And you do have everything, being that perfect son of two perfect heros.

But not her, and you never will. She wasn't there for you to leave when you thought you had found someone better, and she wasn't there for you to ignore every time you saw some flash-in-the-pan hot chick who you wouldn't remember two days later. She's better than that, better than you. Better than both of us.

She came to me after you had left her again for some party you were invited to that she wasn't. She told me where you had gone, and how it didn't matter that you were there, because she knew you would never love her the way I could. Those were her words, Stronghold. I told her that she would never forgive herself if we did what she wanted to, and she told me she couldn't forgive herself already for loving you, but thinking about me.

You called her a whore at school.

She wasn't a whore. You were, except no one could ever really call the Stronghold boy a whore. She was beautiful, and perfect, two things you couldn't grasp until she was someone else's to love. That's right Stronghold, I love her. Another concept you will never know.

Does it bother you that she would scream my name at night instead of yours? Or that you could never please her like I have? You don't want to save the world, boy, you want to please you parents. As for me? I've always wanted Layla, ever since she came up to me at Sky High. I couldn't believe she wanted you, but then again, I can't believe she wants me.

She is too good for the both of us.

_Let me tell the rest of you how good: _

She comes to me in a peasant dress and blouse that I will never forget. It's quiet in the house, which is rare because there are plenty of relatives to go around. This night, all of them have left for a visit with my father's family, whom I can't stand. I stay behind for a night of contemplation. What I get is her looking like some flower child at my door in the middle of the night.

She's not crying. She's not even screaming in pain about Will. She's grown up, and she's taken into account the facts about life that only time can give you. She's still the beautiful red-head that I always was intrigued by, and I am intrigued indeed that she came to my door.

"He's at another party, and this time her name is Mary. I think she's a blonde." Layla states simply.

I smirk and try not to admire her new found wry sense of humor. "I think a 'hello' is in order before an announcement. Want some chips?" I gesture to a bowl next to the couch. I think it was Fuse on the tube, but I can't be sure. Maybe it's MTV2. All I know is I was watching a music video countdown, for reasons beyond me. The sixties are dead, but Layla and I don't know it.

She sits down on the couch with grace, but eats the chips without ceremony.

"Layla, it's nearly one in the morning. We have finals tomorrow." I say, knowing all about her obsession with grades.

"Tonight, I'm out of my mind." she throws the chips aside in frustration. "I didn't come here to moan about Will this time, Warren."

I raise my eyebrow, "What else do I exist for then, Layla?"

"I'm serious, Warren. I think I've lost my mind."

I sit down next to her and try to keep my eyes on the television. Watching her hurts me in ways I don't fully comprehend. Ironically, the song on is 'Dirty Little Secret' by the All American Rejects. I must have heard it a million times.

"So talk to me."

"I love Will," she blurts out in a rush, "but I want you."

I'm stunned beyond all reason. I fight an inner battle that tells me she really has lost it, and another voice that tells me I've known since last Saturday.

I decide I should give her a confession as well, to make her feel better, or to make me feel worse.

"I love you, and I have since you tried to use me freshman year."

She's blushing up a storm, and can't look at me. I, however, can't stop looking at her. I can't tear my eyes away from her face.

"So we're both full of surprises," she says sheepishly. I swear she's as red as a stop light.

"I think we'd be all wrong for each other, Warren. I think I want to kiss you anyway."

And she does, as an explosion seems to happen in my chest. She turns fast and kisses me before I can react. Her face feels to complete mine. Then she pulls off to see my reaction.

"Layla, you'll hate yourself in the morning, and you know it." I say.

"It is the morning, technically, and I don't hate myself the way you think." She says. "If you don't do this with me, I'll hate myself more, and I'll hate you forever."

Who can argue with that logic? Me. "Layla, I know you're upset, but I'm not an escape from reality."

"Then let me be yours, Warren. Just for tonight, let's pretend." she contends.

"Pretend what?" I ask, forgetting why I shouldn't kiss her.

She doesn't answer, as I give into temptation. I only plan to kiss her, but you know that's never how things work out. Too beautiful, too ready. Too willing, as well. And that's just me.

"Don't hate me later, Layla." I plead as I kiss her again. I put my hand behind her neck, which is warm against my strangely cold hand. She gasps on my lips.

It's not long before I notice one last thing about my surroundings. 'Helena', by My Chemical Romance plays.

I grow a little frenzied, and I take no time disrobing her. I will note that she was just as ready to take off my clothes. I take the lead and slide her back on the couch, hovering over her just so as to let her understand I don't want to invade her.

I'd like to tell you I wouldn't continue, but she was too perfect, and she fit as well as Juliet with Romeo. I feel guilty that I must be taking advantage of her, but I can't stop myself around her, she makes me feel crazy.

However, if this is insanity, it's not a bad way to go.

The smell of her hair, the desire in her eyes, and the warmth of her body is what really drives me into her. She moans my name into my ear with each pounding conjoining. Our fingers interlace, her breath comes short in my ear, and she contracts, letting out a lovely moan that drives me over.

In conclusion, to Will, and to whoever finds this confession, I'd like to repeat one small fact that makes a small smile play on my lips whenever I see her alone or with someone else:

I did something for Layla that you could never do for her, Will.

I loved her.


	8. Will the Madness Ever Cease

**Author's Note: **I'm responding to that challenge. It's just so tempting!!! Here's to you LadyKida. Just so you know, this is meant to be humorous, not offensive. I love all you guys, and your stories, which really aren't this bad... usually.

_**No POV**_

Warren liked to think he was an ok guy. Sometimes, he felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, but the feeling went away with a bowl of Cheerios and some cuddling with Mr. Binky-Boo...who his mother had named, not him...really... But there were those days in which he felt like being a very bad person, if only once.

It was a drastic statement, he knew, but with girls like this one... Hell, Superman wouldn't save this damsel in distress.

There she was, sitting pretty in a desk in his Hero class. He groaned with agony just looking at her. He used to love girls. Used to be crazy about them. But every day, because of girls like her, that Lash kid was getting cuter and cuter.

Still, he could appreciate the imagination in her. Long black hair with glowing red-streaks, multicolored eyes shaped like a lusty lioness, skin like alabaster, ruby red lips that drew the attention of every guy in the room... as per usual... long lashes that swatted seductively... namely at him.

Great, just great. Nice body, torn fish nets, ugly army boots, cut-off jeans so high they really wouldn't have been allowed in school, a tight black tee that said, 'bite me', and silver bracelets complete with a silver cross with two snakes climbing it.

Warren had a sixth sense about these things now. She would have two hero parents each with two powers, so she would have four powers, even though it's not possible. One of her parents would be a Villain, whom she was desperately trying to live the name down. She hates both her parents, and both her parents hate her. Let's see... and she'll be powerful beyond all recognition... she'll like everything he likes, and will want to shag at any minute.

Great, huh?

She finally came over, realizing Warren would not live up to his role and be intrigued by her, and sat down in front of him. Again, it never failed to amaze him how everyone would be taken into the plot the moment one of her type came in. Was he jaded or just lucky? Guys were drooling, eyes like saucers, girls already insanely jealous for no reason... damn this was weird.

"Hi there, Warren," she said in a sultry voice.

Here it comes... he thought.

"Gee how did you know my name," he asked without tone, knowing the answer.

"Well, you see, both my parents had two powers, so I got four. I didn't know I'd even have any, but here I am. I'm psychic, can change into anything, control all the elements, and if you touch my skin you'll be instantly aroused." she explained.

Ah, how interesting. Haven't seen too many sex powers in a while, he thought.

_Ah, you should see mine!_

Oh, just great, now she's telepathic. Gaining abilities as she went along. Dandy.

"Coach Boomer had never been so amazed in all his years of teaching, even after I threw him into the wall with my super strength." she stated.

"Yeah, he may have been, oh I don't know, fearing for his life? Just maybe?" Warren asked innocently. Poor Boomer, third time this week.

Medulla, coming in late, of course, asked my new friend to stand up in front of the room. She refused, of course, because she's a rebel, so he introduced her as she starting to pout for no reason. Life was very hard for the girl with every power known to man, you know.

"This is our new student, Ophelia Davinia Sunshine Starlight Starbright (insert name here) Deviance Darkness Nightshade (file not found) Hiroshima Remington Cassidy Providence (around and around and around she goes, where she'll stop no one knows!) Paris Ashlee."

"But I'd liked to be called Paris right now." she stated.

"Okay, and I'll have Warren show you around because you seem to be getting along so well. Remember, you two, not to neglect visiting the Janitor's Closet because you know he never does!"

The long and the short of it.

"Wait, I really want be called Lee now, is that ok?"

"I'm going to dump Layla for you!!" Will screamed in anguish at the back of the room. Not that he was even in Warren's class, but yeah, ok.

"Wow, suddenly the class is over. And even though it's only been one period, go to lunch a couple times before you go the next class, ok?"

Lee brushed her fingertips 'accidently' against his hands.

"Oh how clumsy of me!" she said innocently.

He sighed, not really wanting to burst her bubble. "Oh my God, I need you now, baby, baby, I'm so hot, meet me in the closet during lunch." He said in a rather stoned voice.

"Oh my Gosh, we're a loner couple now, whom everyone will want to tear apart and destroy!"

Ooh he said too much.

"Now wait just a minute!" I said, thinking this had gone on far enough.

"Oh! Now I'm pregnant with you unborn child! Whatever will I do?!"

So she was.

"Hold on, girl, we just met!"

"I told you I was a virgin and we should have used protection!" she screamed.

He was lost once again in the magic of a confusing plot.

So, this would be the time in which Will challenged Warren for her hand in marriage, as this was how things were done. Warren agreed, planning on losing quickly and changing his name until she went away like the others.

Mind you all this happened during lunch, and they hadn't even left the room yet.

"Slappy Hands contest?" Will asked.

"Sure, why not?" Warren agreed.

"Don't fight over me boys! And call me Tanya now, ok?"

"Ok." they replied in unison.

As you might know, Slappy Hands, a time-honored game to the death, or until your hands hurt like Hell, is where you put out the backs of your hands to be slapped hard, taking turns until the other one says uncle. Warren was one hit away from losing Tanya forever... God willing.

Will went first, but before Warren could say 'uncle', Will screamed in pain.

"I didn't even hit you!" Warren cried in despair.

"You win! I can see you two were meant to be together!" Will cried in defeat.

Damn, Warren thought. Time to hide.

Racing down the Hall, Tanya, now called Xandra, chased Warren with her super speed, some how magically knowing every single corner of the school, first day and everything.

Warren found a closet, as her heard her pass just barely by, calling him. He wiped the sweat from his brow as Xandra called out... "Don't make me use my X-Ray Vision to find you, Warren! Baby, we belong together... and call me Sarah Nancy!"

He sighed with relief. A couple days in here and she would die heroically where everyone would mourn and then forget her, and Warren would do it all over again.

Lash tapped him on the shoulder, obviously hiding too.

"You too?"

Warren nodded.

"I've just been pushing mine over the side of Sky High."


	9. Beware the Horrors Online!

**_Ok, so enjoy!_**

**Warren's POV**

There I was, surfing the internet on Sunday, my day off from the restaurant. It was a rainy day, and the block looked dirty and poor on rainy days, so I tried not to go out on them. As for my family, Mom had taken the brat pack to a movie about some penguins, so I opted to stay home rather than have to hold a screaming baby every time a bird squawked too loudly.

Hence, I was online. The TV was on in the background, but it was yet another kid's movie. Mom didn't want anything more hardcore than PG on at anytime in the house. I grew so used to it, I actually looked forward to watching _Beauty and the Beast_. Hey, what can I say? I was into digging Belle. Smart chicks are very attractive to me, you know.

Too bad she was animated.

Anyway, back to the fact that I was online. You see, beside having a thing for philosophy, I was a huge internet junkie. Mostly I looked at music sites, but I was always looking for images to add to my collection. I had mostly band shots, but I could be creative. Sometimes I had pictures of the Berlin Wall, and sometimes I had pictures of Martin Luther King Jr. All these I got online from good ol' Google.

This time, I was looking for something new. I was being to really get into this messenger thing, so I had that up with Layla, Ethan and Will in three different windows. Layla left though. She said she was having too much fun laughing, and left us all a single link. Something with 'fiction' in the name.

Then, horrified, I saw what was so funny to Layla.

Our story was made into a movie by Disney. Not that it was so bad, but... this was a fan site... which might have had it's perks... but I saw to my horror that it wasn't about all of us... it was about... well, me, mostly. And lots of sex. With at first looked liked a lot of Layla/Me works.

Me and Layla? That's just weird, people. Have you talked to her for more than an hour before? I have. She gets on your nerves very quickly, guys. Really, and just so you know, I love steak, and for that reason alone I could never go out with her. Really.

And these other characters, what Ethan told me later... he seemed to visit the site often you see, were called OC's, some of which were interesting to read... don't tell anyone...and some of which were damn creepy. But then... it got worse.

I scrolled for what seemed like hours, shocked and taken aback by all the girls who seemed to have a thing for me...and all these stories of what they would do if they had the chance to me, when I saw what scared and scarred me forever.

'Warren/Will ficlets.'

I screamed into the night, never to surf online again.

Beware the horrors of the internet.


	10. In Desperation

**_Disclaimer:_** If you guys think I own this stuff, you don't understand fan fiction!

_**Author's Note**:_ I'm trying to make things less angst-y in my work, and I know I need to work on my humor, so here we go again!

_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger_- Nietzsche

_5'9, red hair, long legs, great skin. Perfect!_- The Fifth Element

**Lash's POV**

_**Part 1**_

The moment I hit puberty, girls were no longer the enemy. Suddenly, girls were very intriguing. Girls were just great. In fact, suddenly it was cool to think about them in my spare time. That was one of the joys about puberty; chicks. It was gonna be sweet, ya know? Awesome. 'Course I didn't talk about it with my buds, but things were gonna be different. I just knew it.

When I got just a little bit older I understood the horrors of puberty. Acne, sprouting twice my height in just half the time, standing in front of class with, um... guys, you know what I mean. Still, life got better eventually. Highschool was far better. I was a kid with braces and pimples my first two years, picked on and tormented with no friends, then suddenly I got rid of those braces and the pimples decided to leave me alone enough for me to become rather popular with the ladies.

Ok, yea, I also was a bit of a bully, but it's only fair, I mean, they did it to me, I do it to them, the chain just makes you stronger, right? Some nerd said that I'll bet. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Well, that's my theory. In reality, I'm _helping_ those kids. It's good for them. Even the nerd said that!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, girls. There I was, a popular lad adored by the ladies. And it soon would be homecoming. So I just _had_ to take pity on them and get at least one of them a date. Preferably a cute one. And when it's homecoming time, those babes get _ravenous _(Like the word? I looked it up. I'm _so _smart.)

So picking should be easy. And as I walked down the halls of Sky High, my favorite name of all time for _any_ school, I let the ladies see my strut. And, ok, I only tripped once, but I still had to start over in another hall. It's like the mating rituals of birds... which I don't really know so you'll just have to assume that's what they do.

Then I saw her. The girl of my dreams! 5'9, red hair, long legs, great skin. Perfect! She was standing next to a locker, chirping like crazy to one of her friends about some such non-sense. Girls don't really talk about anything really. I've actually sat and tried to listen, but every word escapes me to a higher conscious.

Anyway, there she was, just waiting for me to go up and ask her. Did I know who she was? No! Did I care? Not really! She was cute, I was cute, and that's all that mattered. I read somewhere that people date at their own attractiveness level... So, technically, she was beneath me, 'cause I am _so _good looking, but I was willing to take pity.

"Hey good-looking..." I started smoothly, 'cause my skillz are so mad! "Somebody call the cops cause you've stolen my heart!"

She looked at me incredulously. "What?"

"Did it hurt when you fell outta heaven, baby?" I asked, still keeping my cool. I was like ice!

"Um, did you want something?" she asked, slowly, giving me the why-are-you-so-good-looking look. I get that a lot.

"I was willing to let you come with me to homecoming, what d'ya think of that?" I asked.

"I think I'm already going with somebody."

"Aww c'mon! Who could possibly be better looking than me?" I asked her in all seriousness.

"Well, he asked me, and actually most of the female hero class...and well, he was just so irresistible, we all said yes. Looks like you might have to go with a side-kick this year, dude." She said nonchalantly.

What the heck? No freaking way! Gasp, did she think I would stoop so low?

"Who is this guy anyway?"

"Me, Lash." Someone said behind me.

I turned, saw him with like a trail of thirty chicks, all clinging and falling for his attention. Although I didn't get it, a name burst out from my lips like a shock of electricity.

"SPEED?!"

_**Part 2**_

"What part of 'I have a date' don't you understand, Lash?" She screamed, practically in my ear, that mean-head.

"Aww, Lana, gimmie a chance, I know you want to have the chance to go to home-coming with a senior. And, you're a side-kick, so this is a huge honor! You don't have to go with a geek!" I begged. Okay, not begged. I'm way too cool for that. But she was a tougher cookie than I thought.

"And for the last time, you tall, skinny freak, I'm _Layla, _not _Lana_. How do you ever plan to have any girl respect you if you can't even get their name right!"

"Respect girls? To get them to go out with you? Isn't that redundant in his case? I mean, no self-respecting girl would-" That purple kid snapped right next to her. So I interrupted her.

"You're just a jealous freshman AND a side-kick wimp, and I didn't ask you!" I sneered, and I _may _have sounded a bit childish, but I'm so darn cool I figured it didn't really matter. "Lana, who could possibly be better than me to go to a dance with?"

"_Layla._ Didn't you hear her the first six times?" A voice said behind me.

Aww, geez, "Warren Peace? You're going out with a psycho?"

"Just for this once," Warren muttered to himself.

"Yep. Gotta love psychos, always keep things interesting!" Lana said as brightly as possible as that Stronghold kid showed up to stand next to them.

He rolled his eyes. Dork, I bet I don't look like that when I roll my eyes!

I left, not wanting to even get in the middle of freshman side-kick quarrels. I was a on a mission, I would not be deterred! Forget that there seemed to be no periods, and also no teachers in the halls... My God, I realized suddenly, what kind of school was I at anyway?

Ooh, chicks! My woman-radar went off again as I felt them pass by me into the gym. I followed, getting my strut ready as I entered. Must have been Save-the-Citizen time, and you know what that meant. Time to make those ladies swoon with my crazy mad skills!

I mean, uh, skillz.

Before I could even suggest my 'help', Boom-box man had me and Speed in our gear to defend our title against some unsuspecting children down on the court.

As Speed and I held down our 'heros'; me just holding the squirt on the ground, him running around his charge fast enough to trap and confuse 'em, I started up some chatting to keep us interested until time ran out and they lost.

"So Speed, is there anyone you _aren't _taking to homecoming? I mean, you wouldn't want your _friends_ to suffer going stag, right?"

"So...what...are...you...asking...exactly?" Speed said each word as he passed my direction, actually it made it sound like he was saying each word to me like in a normal conversation. We did it all the time. Picking on side-kicks meant knowing how to multitask.

"Well, even though _I _am not having any trouble getting a date for homecoming, I know that..."

He started laughing, which floated toward me in spurts.

"Please...don't...make...me...laugh...it...slows...me...down!"

I growled. "Okay, because, and _only_ because you took all the girls of the hero class, I'm having a _little _bit of trouble getting a date. Why would all those girls go out with you anyway? We both know that _I'm_ the better looking kid."

The buzzer rang, our heros left the court like bullets from a gun. As we squared off for our next round, Speed told me he'd tell me his magic secret at lunch.

So, the next thing you know, we were at lunch, even though lunch period doesn't start after but rather before Save-the-Citizen, we were at lunch.

We sat across from each other at the end of one of the long tables. Speed had only a few of the girls he had magically attracted to him sitting with us at the time. What a picture it was: A big, fat boy choking down horrible lunch meat and chilli, with girls touching and staring adoringly at him as he didn't even spare them a passing glance.

And me, all alone, good-looking to boot. _How the Hell was he doing that?!_

"Alright, spill. Did you get a new superpower or am I crazy and this is a sick dream?"

He swallowed most of his food to say, "A little bit of both. See," he motioned to one of the girls to get something from his bag, "I have discovered the true secret to getting any girl in the world to simply adore your every move!"

"And are you going to share it?" I snapped.

"Sure. Or I could take pity on you and give you one of these lovely ladies," he motioned in a flirtatious manner to the chicks sitting next to him. One giggled, still enamored, and handed him the candy bar she had pulled from his bag.

"I don't want you left-overs," I sneered, "Any of them!" The girls collectively glared at me.

"Well, ok. I can tell you how to get a nice girl all by yourself. And to start, you can't call these lovely flowers 'left overs'." He barked, getting more giggles from the girls next to him.

"Ok, fine. Then what?"

"Now hold on there, partner, there are rules." He said as he kissed the palm of a chick walking by.

"Like what, munching on their hands?"

"No. Number one: Be polite, be polite even if it humiliates yourself." He said as he turned to one of his new female worshipers. "Did I ever stop to think of you? I'm so sorry, would you like my candy bar?"

She giggled, blushed, and said no. But the girls next to her sighed in happiness. "He's so sweet!"

"Oh you've gotta be kidding me! I'm way too good to go and be... wait what's she whispering in your ear?"

He laughed and looked back at me. "Oh, nothing. Number two: Most girls don't just want you to be polite, they want you to want them for who they are, not what they look like or whatever. See that girl? That one with the braces over there?"

"Eww, yes?"

"She may not look like much but she's double-jointed."

Ooooh.

"So the lesson there is don't judge by appearances. Number three: they want your attention on them, not you. So forget you exist, and prepare to give until it hurts!"

"I am nothing if not a giving man."

Heh. Oh yeah.

"Right, and remember that every girl is like a snow-flake: each is different and special."

"And they melt in your mouth," I laughed. Speed just glared. "What?"

"Girls require respect and intelligence. It's not a matter of hunting them down Lash, it's not a sport."

"You can talk. You're the one with tons of women! And how did you get so smart?_ You_ were the one who taught me the wolf-whistle."

He shrugged. "I'm a senior, I'm getting on in years. I need to grow up and settle down eventually."

I shuddered. "Don't you ever say that again."

"Besides," he continued, "I'm not going out with every single girl. I'm courting them, which is another matter all together."

"So that means they're technically still free?"

"Did you just miss every thing I just said?" Speed snapped.

"What? Oh Speed I gotta go. I'm on the prowl, you know." I said, watching yet another girl walk by. Ahh, that's why God is good. WOMEN.

"You didn't learn anything, did you?"

"Thanks for the tips, I can't wait to try 'em out!" I said enthusiastically.

"You dip, you totally don't understand women."

"Of course I do. You told me how."

"I knew I shouldn't have used these powers for evil!"

So I spent the next weeks on those moves, still failing considerably. Okay, my cool was unparalleled but I still needed to get my technique down, I guess. I mean I know women want me, they just don't know how to accept a good proposal. Me.

So up until the day before the dance, I was dateless. It's hard being so darn hot, it makes girls uncomfortable. I can't turn down the cool, I mean, I was born with it. What's a guy to do but feel bad about being handsome?

I was totally without a date. I mean, Gwen was taking that freshman, Will Stronghold, the freaking pansy, and Penny was going with the rest of the girls with Speed. And me? What was I to do? Everyone was taken... unless...

Sometimes it hurts when I think. I get headaches really easy when I do. So, I try not to. But I did have an idea, and it was simple enough not to hurt too badly. I mean, it wasn't like I had to take someone from my school. Or, that I couldn't convince to go with me.

I had the perfect person.

_**Part 3**_

Okay, so maybe Speed's tips didn't work. I mean, they work for him, but they didn't work for me. What can I say? I'm a unique person. That, and I think I may have gone too far by giving each girl I tried those tips on a time limit. But who can really say.

Yet, after much careful consideration, I made the call. She and I had a business relationship, so I figured it would be within my rights to ask a small favor. It would be a piece of cake. Oh wait, you know, I don't like cake. Let's say a piece of pie.

Over the phone, her voice held shock. I know it's not everyday a cute guy calls her for a date to a very hot event, so I knew I would have to be patient. After all, she wouldn't have been the first to want to ride the Lash train. I just know how to PLEASE!

"Lash, are you asking _me _to homecoming?" she sounded incredulous. She probably thought that this day would never come. And really, it shouldn't have, but she didn't need to know that. I was trying to remember Speed's tips.

"Yes. I mean, after all, it makes sense doesn't it? I see you just as much as Speed, we both have a history that goes back, and imagine all the people who would appreciate it. Namely me." I admitted. My logic is undeniable. Wait, wasn't that from another movie? Uhhhh...

"Lash, I don't honestly think I can go with you..." Damn. "Yet you sound like you need a date, and I wouldn't want you to feel left out with all your friends. I guess I can go with you, on one condition."

"What is that?"

"No funny stuff."

So, there I was at the dance. Naturally, I came by first to help Gwen set up for her master plan, whatever that was. Then I watched as people started to flock inside and begin the dancing. Most of the girls had flocked around Speed, which, let me tell you, is STILL disconcerting. I had to beat a couple back just get in to see him.

"Well, Lash, I can tell you didn't learn anything from what I told you. I'm not surprised. You didn't even get a date did you?" He asked as he begged the ladies for a little bit of room.

"Not true Speed, I learned that you tips don't work for sh-"

"Lash! The CHILDREN!"

"And that I can get a date without them. See, she's just not here yet is all."

And, wouldn't you know it, Will Stronghold's side-kicks chose that moment to appear. That green chick was hot, you know. A weird hippie chick, but hot none the less. Anyway, they seemed to think I was some kind of entertainment, as they watched me with evil smirks upon their faces.

"Where's your date Lash?" Lana asked with a bit of curiosity.

"Or did _he _decide you weren't worth the effort?" the purple kid chimed.

"Oh, a gay joke, that's funny." I sneered.

Where was she? She was making me look bad. I couldn't let these ungrateful side-kicks think lowly of me, I was their superior!

"Well, Lash, if you do have a date, where is she?"

This from the glow worm.

But as if someone had answered my silent prayers, there she was! In all her glory! I couldn't believe it! This would show them all! They never would make fun of me again! Not that, to be honest, they really had anything to make fun of before, it's just, well, you know...

"There she is." I said in awe. "Now feel jealous, side-kicks."

"Wait, you mean..." Speed's jaw dropped. The girls around him stopped chattering, and at last I felt the respects I knew I deserved.

"You aren't serious." Glow worm spoke.

"Must be out of pity, or..." Purple kid stated.

"Isn't this, um, illegal?" Land asked. Ha, she wished.

As she walked up, I grabbed her arm. I felt I was king yet again.

She rolled her eyes. "Lash, remember, no funny stuff."

And the whole group, the side-kicks, my best friend Speed, and his groupies, all said it at the same time.

"Principal Powers?"

_**Fin.**_


	11. Troilus and Cressida

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Not making money off of this, blah, blah, blah. For the fans. Lash/Maj  
**

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_Ulysses: Fie, fie upon her!  
There's a language in her eye, her cheek, her  
lip,  
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look  
out  
At every joint and motive of her body.  
O, these encounters, so glib of tongue,  
That give accosting welcome ere it comes,  
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts  
To every ticklish reader! set them down  
For sluttish spoils of opportunity  
And daughters of the game._

_-Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida, _Act IV, Sc. V

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For a moment all that could be done was breathe. Breathe, and _run. _I ran like a bat out of Hell. Adrenaline coursed though me like a drug, propelling me up from the ground and toward the center of the street. My legs were moving faster than the rest of me, so it was an awkward motion. It was in that minute that I wished I had Speed's ability and not mine, as I knew I wouldn't make it past the middle of the street. That had never been the case before, but it was the case then. All I could do was breathe and run.

And, just as predicted, as I just barely, _barely_ reached the middle of the road, a loud roar came from behind me. Intense heat washed over my body, choking the air around me. A split second later, I was flying forward in the air, not too terribly high, but mighty fast. I had only enough time to brace myself by covering my face with my arms before I shattered one of Macy's department store windows in what was probably a very dramatic entrance.

Actually, I never really knew if it was _me_ or the bang from _behind _me that broke the window. All I knew was that I went through it, glass and debris raining down on me from every way, and my body rammed harshly into two display tables, thankfully holding winter clothes. I pulled the table over as I fell, and I landed directly behind it. Thankfully the table protected me from the second and third bang as I lay curled in a fetal position, my ears ringing for what seemed like eternity.

I was unable to move for quite some time because of the chaos. I was quite sure nothing was broken, but it was slightly painful to breathe and every muscle in my body was bruised and sore. I was sure my clothes were singed. I was also sure I didn't have a concussion, as I didn't hit my head that hard. Thank the powers that be. Still, I was very disoriented after that. And it really wasn't that painful at first, because I was so charged with epinephrine that all of my pain was a dull ache, instead of the full-blown bite I expected.

When I was sure the explosions were done, I got shakily up from my hiding place and almost fell over, wishing I could laugh in the face of death, but having no power to do so. Sometimes, even with adrenaline, a spark of pain will come through, and it will knock you down. Laughing at death was out of the question. Thankfully, I stayed afloat, and the feeling passed with a groan escaping my lips. I began to move again, searching the store for any other threats with my eyes. Really, I knew that this part of town was deserted, but I wasn't looking for civilians.

Satisfied with my findings, I jogged out of Macy's, ready to move on. The thought occurred that I might need to find Speed, at _least_, and hightail it out of there. After the world realized that no groups of crime-fighting maniacs were coming out of the wreckage of the city-center, they were sure to send in S. W. A. T. Or the military or _something_ to find and eliminate us.

But it's hard to kill a group of baddies instead of just one. It might have meant I would be able to escape without detection. It was a risk, trying to find Speed, but he was my best friend and I couldn't just leave him. He might have left me, but I thought it was unlikely. We were friends, in the end, and I knew he wasn't as bad as the rest of our posse. Hell, by himself, Speed was a fucking kitten compared to the rest of them.

And I wasn't talking about Gwen and Penny. They were anal-retentive gripes, but they weren't truly _evil. _No, for my money, the _real_ evil were the people who set off three bombs in a bookstore during Christmas shopping, while their own people were inside. That was _not_ my idea. Hell, I _never _was told anything, so I didn't even _know _what they were planning until Ripper turned to me with a wicked sneer on his scarred face and said, in that low rasp of his, "You've got thirty seconds until this place blows. Are you willing to die for the cause?"

Shocked, I realized that I was _not _willing to die for the cause. So I ran. So did Speed. I wasn't ashamed of that. I guess I never realized what being apart of that group would lead to. I knew that we could go to prison. That was always the fear the 'heros' wanted to put into us. But I had been to 'super' prison and had very easily broken out when I teamed up with other 'villains'. That was not scary for me. I couldn't care less.

It was fortunate, I suppose, that no civilians were around for the explosions. Really, as usual, they were meant for the heros, but this time it was different. This time, they had almost killed Speed and me. It was as if they didn't care who had to die on their side to kill the 'good' guys. Well, okay, I had always been somewhat aware of their apathy toward us. But it was as if . . . It was as if . . .

I shuddered and stopped jogging. I stood stock still for a moment as the truth sank in.

It was as if they had been trying to kill _us_. And my mind began to run wild with conspiracies. Yes, indeed, even before we got to our destination, where one hero was supposedly working (a secret identity thing) it was as though . . . But it couldn't be. Surely they wouldn't try to kill Speed and me. We hadn't done anything wrong! We _had_ done everything they had ever asked us, we were quiet, we weren't a liability . . .

_Why?_

I began jogging more angrily, eventually breaking out into a sprint, becoming more and more convinced of their treachery with every step. But I had only myself to blame. I wanted to rage against the machine, but I didn't realize who was raging with me. I should have, because I had been to prison with them, I had planned with them, I had executed plots and . . . I knew better than to trust a bunch of crooks, but to some extent, I guess I did.

I was ready to give up looking for Speed. I could hardly concentrate on him anyway. I could find him later. I just . . . didn't want to leave him. I had to tell him . . . unless he already, by that time, knew who the bombs were really for. They couldn't have gotten him, he was too fast for them, so he _had_ to be alive. There was no way he could have died. And he would have to be gone soon, if hadn't left already, because he would know that soon more attention would arrive . . .

Unless, of course, they came back to finish off the job. The clap would have surely killed me, but they would have to know Speed could outrun a blowup like that. Of course, there was always that possibility. In which case I shouldn't have been looking for him, and I should have been trying to save my own hide . . . but Speed was my friend, I couldn't just leave him . . .

I felt her before I heard or saw her. I couldn't believe it, but I forced myself too. I had no idea where she had come from and was more than a little surprised to see . . . _her_. I stopped suddenly, and turned so rapidly it must have shocked her, as she stopped suddenly too and stared me down. She looked great, and I can say that much honestly. She was wearing worn jeans with a mild amount of holes in them, a dark-purple, button-down shirt and an oversized leather jacket that I swore I had seen before, on someone else. And in her hand, almost like an extension of herself, was what looked like a machete. It couldn't be a machete though, because it wasn't the proper . . . shape. I didn't know. I know nothing of cutlery.

We locked gazes and stared at each other. Though my rush from before hadn't completely worn off, it came back in full force with a tremendous punch. My heart was beating so hard it hurt, and I could feel it pulsing in my head. I wasn't sure _exactly_ what to think, because I wasn't sure where she had come from, or why she was alone, but I had some idea of what she wanted to do with that blade, by the nasty look on her face.

I knew who she was. She and her stupid friends had been chasing my team since we escaped from prison, or more accurately, since Homecoming my senior year in highschool. So after a few years, I knew them each by name, their powers and whom they were closely linked with. I had to; I was forced to pay special attention to them because they paid special attention to us. More often than not, I always had to deal with her or her friend Zack. God he was annoying. And his crime-fighting costume was pathetic. The guy was just not cut out to be a hero; 'sidekick' fit him way better.

We basically divided up their group as they divided us. We each had our own 'arch enemy' or enemies out of each other: Gwen had Will Stronghold, Penny had his wife, Layla, Speed had Warren Peace and that Ethan guy, who was really more of a side-kick and someone I usually had to fight when Speed was dealing with Peace. I tried avoiding Peace, because between our powers, he had the fucking advantage: Fire Vs. Stretching? Who the HELL did you think was going to win?

And then I usually had to deal with Ethan or 'Zack Attack', (that little fucker). And upon rare occasions, _very _rare occasions, I dealt with Magenta, the dropout. As I understood it, she was the only one of them who didn't make it to graduation. Apparently she got tired of being in the caste of 'sidekick' and was forced to enroll in a military school. Which worked well for her, because she was still trained to kill with expert precision, and she was not humiliated by being someone's little helper when she was perfectly capable of handling bad guys by herself. And she didn't have to wear a stupid costume.

Out of all of them, she was my favorite to fight. She was the most challenging, because she had a combination of wits and skills at her disposal. She fought bloody, and she fought hard. Unlike her sidekick counterparts, she gave me a run for my money every time. So when we did face off, it was always a close call.

I know that sounds fucking crazy, especially after the attempt on my life, but that was how I liked it. It really was the real reason I was a 'villain' in the first place. I loved that thrilling edge of doing the wrong thing. But only if I was ever so close to being caught. Only she gave me that edge. Only she could even try. It was too bad that she was a straight-edger hero-type. I would have loved to see her try to hold up a bank. Then again, how would we face off?

I should have been a little more cautious, a little more fearful, because I had just survived an blast meant to kill me, and was on the hit list of two separate groups, but I couldn't help myself. There she was, there I was, and we were going to have our showdown. I was already suppressing a shiver of anticipation. I wonder if she felt it too. Probably not.

But I digress. The silence was finally broken by her. The tension remained had remained the same for the pause, and the charge was still in the air. She must have seen my smirk, which I couldn't hide, because the feeling intensified with her words. Okay, I was a little bit excited to see her. I should have been worried, I should have broken out into a run because I knew time was short, but I just didn't care.

It was very surreal.

"I can't believe you survived those explosions." She sounded in awe, almost.

Her fingers absently tightened around the hilt of whatever it was in her hand, as though she felt safer in doing so. Did that mean she was afraid of me? Was that what it was? I couldn't imagine that girl being afraid of anything, let alone little o' me. It was flattering and disappointing at the same time. She was supposed to be stronger than that.

"I can't believe it too." I said, my voice far more confident than it should have been. Hearing that sound sort of surprised me. I wasn't sure why. "Nice knife."

"It's a falchion." She said even more absently. Her face had become depressingly blank, and I wondered if she was going to attack me at all.

Suddenly I was dodging an attack by rolling to the side. Kind of like a Michael Jackson move. I reached out to stop her hand holding the blade, and somehow misjudged her expertise with it. She ended up slicing the meat of my forearm, and if I hadn't been faster, she would have taken it off in one blow.

I had to come around with the other arm, unable to slow down (lest she kill me) for the pain, and push her away as hard as my body would allow me. I know you're not supposed to hit girls, but goddamnit, she was trying to kill me, so I figured that it was all right in that case. She stumbled back, recovering quickly, but not quickly enough to block a blow from my good arm to her chest.

I should have hit her in the face, but I always refused to do it when we fought. I couldn't bring myself to ever hit her in the face. I wasn't sure why. Probably some failed chivalry on my part. She, on the other hand, was more than willing to hit me in the face, and I was always aware of that. I had to be, because being hit in the face can be a crippling blow if you hit the right place.

She landed on her back on the asphalt of the street, rolling out of the way when I tried to kick her down again. I know that I'm horrible, keeping a woman down. God, help me. Please, people, this was a battle, you can't fight heroically if you're the bad guy. Which I was more than willing to be if she was supposed to be the good guy. What a pair we made.

She slashed at my calf from her place on the ground, moving in the same stroke out of the way when she missed and I tried to stomp her arm. And in her same roll, she gracefully pulled herself up and held the falchion out, ready for any attack was going to give.

I held my bloody forearm to my chest, so riled up I couldn't feel the proper pain. I knew better than to stretch it; stretching would tear the skin up worse, and the muscles she had torn would probably never recover. I had to be careful. And I had to stop her from using that damn blade. She probably had figured out this little weakness and was going to hang onto that thing as if her life depended on it. I had to be very smart about this.

I swung out my other arm, even though she was a good ten feet away, and made like I was going to swipe her feet out from under her. She prepared for this and jumped up, allowing me to do what I was actually planning to do, which was to knock the fucking blade away from her. It sliced my hand, so I retracted quickly, but it flew in the desired direction, a good fifteen feet away. A very good thing for me, a very bad thing for her.

Although my hand was cut, I wasn't all that worried about stretching in that instance. I could instead stretch my arm instead of my hand, and I was all set. Although, flames of pain were starting to shoot up my arm (probably the body's natural pain killer wearing off) I was ready when she started to run toward the weapon as I predicted. I took her out, instead of swinging under her feet which she was ready for, but by grasping one of her ankles.

She landed on her back again, this time groaning, as I kept her thrashing leg in my grip. She finally managed to pull away from me when she dug her heel into my arm and crushed it over the pavement. I cried out from the sting, and we both moved toward the blade; her crawling to her feet, me with my super stretchy arm coming back. Though my hand hurt, I got it first, and brought my whole arm back with the falchion still held.

She gave me a dirty look as locked stares once more.

"My back up will be here any minute, asshole." She glowered. Her distaste for me was thick and she gave me an icy once-over. She was probably wondering if she could wrestle it from me, and she probably could in my condition and under her training.

"I'm sure." I said with a teeth-bearing grin. I had to appear like the pain was not starting to affect me, but . . . a wince came through. The dull ache was becoming sharp stinging. I couldn't make myself _not_ think about it either. The pain was going to be terrible. I could feel it coming with a small amount of dread. She might actually have found a way to get the better of me.

I was expecting her to clash with me, but I wasn't expecting the force of it to be enough to push me down. Yet she did throw me down, and we had an all-out struggle where I was barely able to keep her from smacking my face and head. My arm screamed in protest, but I had to grit my teeth. She was a fiery devil, and you should never give a devil the upper hand.

I finally shoved her off me and managed to bring myself to my feet. We were standing close to the broken window of yet another department store. A thrift store, I believe. She was close enough to me I could start slashing away at her, as she had done to me, but something caught my eye as she poised herself for another onslaught of blows. And she paused as well, or she would have had the advantage.

Coming from the direction of the bookstore, bigger and _far_ more deadly than the first three, was another explosive force of energy. We weren't in its direct path, or truly that close to it anymore but it shook hard enough to actually throw us both off balance, though we managed to keep our footing. Yet, even that was not as bad as the flaming shit that had been propelled from the bomb.

Four bombs? I hardly thought about how strangely excessive that was, but I did touch upon it in my mind. I later found out that a jet had been shot down by my former comrades as they left the area, and it had crashed into the buildings near the bookstore. All I know is that I saw something flaming from that direction whistling toward us . . .

I have no idea what drove me to do it. I somehow dropped the blade and pushed Magenta into the store behind her, through the broken window mentioned previously. And just as we passed through that window, whatever it was that had almost smashed us touched down in the very stop where we had been standing.

We landed side by side in shattered glass fragments and a mess of shoes and purses. For a moment, we both didn't move. I felt like I was reliving the first few bangs, and I was waiting to hear more loud noises in the distance. I didn't realize it, as my ears rang yet again, but she was clutching my better arm very tightly, another one of those blank looks on her face.

I was breathing heavily, suddenly so damn tired. The adrenaline finally left me, making me drained and exhausted. I felt where the glass was cutting through my skin on my back, felt the soft leather purses and the pointy, expensive shoes . . . and Magenta's hand closed over mine in a white-knuckle vise-grip.

She probably was still shocked from the experience. Yet I recovered faster and was leaning over her in that same instance, pressing my body to hers so she couldn't move her arms or kick me with her legs. I would have held her arms down instead, but my ruined forearm prevented me from doing that. The result was my own face being very, very close to her face. I couldn't help but smile into it.

Her eyes brought me into focus and she seemed more than a little bit pissed off. She obviously was no longer afraid, but her anger was a passion all it's own. She started to growl at me when I didn't move away, and cursed profusely into my face. She spat, she screamed, and she thrashed violently, but she wasn't able to break free, and I knew that I had finally won.

And even though I was in agony, even though the pain was probably excruciating for her, I felt good. I felt almost satisfied. And in that very tense, very frenzied second, our eyes met, and I couldn't tell you what pushed me to do it. I guess one minute I was thinking about victory and thrills and the next minute I was kissing her.

She was so stunned. She didn't even have a response for that.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was because my day had been a little fucking hectic, maybe it was because I would very shortly have to be running off to Mexico for my own safety and wouldn't have the chance to see her again, maybe it was because she always made my day, even though she was trying to off me. I couldn't tell you.

But everything that had been there when we fought, my feelings about her and her ways, all the vitality and spunk that she brought, all the delirious, unrestrained and feverish emotions that my adventure had brought me came out in that kiss. And it was a furious, unhinged thing that was somehow neither romantic or loving. Two things a kiss should always be, and it lacked both. Purely animalistic, purely primal . . . you get the idea.

I broke off, leaving her still taken aback. You forget, I had little time. I managed to get off her quickly, run out of the store and into the street with relative speed. I just sort of winged it from there: I hot-wired a car and made it as quickly to Mexico as was humanly possible, stopping to rob one armored car along the way. Really, I could go into the story of that, but you wouldn't be interested. It's a really quite boring story after this one.

A few months later, after I had basically healed, and was easily resting up in a resort not far from a yellow-sanded beach, I saw her. I was in a bar next to the resort's private beach, enjoying a drink and the golden sunset. I was just minding my own business at a small table in the center of the room, and there she was. I don't know how she tracked me, and I don't know why she even cared to try, but there she was.

To be truthful, I didn't even recognize her at first; she had white flowers in her hair, her skin was glowing, and she wore a white, satin-y dress that moved like liquid. She looked like she was dancing to the music; a slow smile played upon her lips, a silky motion in her hips. She was amazing, and I was perplexed beyond belief. To say the least: I was _floored_.

I looked truly unremarkable next to her, and seeing her there held me captive. Was she there to turn me in, did she want my blood? I had no idea, no _idea_ what to think. I was stunned into paralysis. All I could do was watch as she swayed up to me, very calm, very smooth, and sat down gracefully. I guess I never realized how feminine she could be when she wanted. Granted, I hadn't seen her outside of a battle. Well, not for a long time, anyway.

So like we always did, we shared a look before speaking. Most of what went on between us was unspoken anyway. I didn't need to know what she thought to know what I should think. Though, the temptation to ask her what she thought of our relationship, strange as it was, was incredibly tempting.

"Come here to bring me back to the states?" I asked congenially. I figured I'd keep it light until I knew what her real intentions were. No sense in ruffling any feathers. Yet.

"No. Just thought I'd take some time off. This is a vacation for me. How about you? Taking a vacation down here or are you living here now?" Her voice was just as jovial as mine. From her posture; comfortably seated at the table, slender legs crossed over the knees, and from mine; easily rooted to the chair, sipping away, both feet on the ground, you would have assumed we were long time friends.

I don't know what she thought she was doing. But I answered anyway, ever the devil-may-care fool, "Not quite sure yet. My old friends think I'm dead, and I'd rather have it that way. It does make things easier for me. Now, tell me truthfully: Did you come here wanting to catch up on old times?"

She smiled larger. "Oh, no, I just came here to enjoy the view. So, by not being in with your old crowd, does that mean you've turned over a new leaf?"

I laughed, "Never. I'm just on vacation as of this moment."

She raised and eyebrow at me. "Well, if what you say is true, then you'll never be able to go back to the states. They'll be looking for you."

I shrugged gently and looked off at the beach. "Maybe. I have a friend who may still be alive that I want to find. I've been trying to pull strings down here to see if he can't be reached . . . Or if someone couldn't tell me what happened to him."

"You mean Speed, correct?"

I looked at her sharply, the good-natured feeling in me dwindling. "Yes."

"He's dead." Her voice was slightly apologetic, as though she had the utmost remorse for me. I wasn't sure if it was shit or not, but I listened, and believed, when she said, "We came across him after cleaning up the bookstore. He was still alive then, but only just. Apparently he had backed himself into a dead end when one of the original blasts hit. They took him to the hospital, but someone put out a hit on him. He was dead before he even had a chance to recover."

I should have known. Somewhere inside of myself, I knew he was dead. I still didn't want to hear it. I looked off into the sunset once again, and sipped thoughtfully at my drink. I wasn't too sad, because I always expected that one of us would die soon, and would die young, but I still felt the smarting of his loss. He was my best friend, after all, and it wasn't fair that he should die by people we had the audacity to trust.

I would get those suckers eventually. Revenge would be mine. The time had come for me to rise above my own station and kill them off like they had killed Speed. I didn't know their reasons. I didn't need to know. All I knew was that I was going to have one Hell of a time tracking them down and killing them all. It would probably take the rest of my life. I would do it anyway.

"You said you were here on vacation?" I glanced back at her, changing the subject to cover myself.

She nodded, then looked off at the sunset as well. I took in her figure once more, admiring everything about her. I realized, that in all our battles, all our glib comments and banter, I knew almost nothing about her. She tempted me, she drove me to the end of my wits, she even came very close to killing me on more than one occasion, and I still knew very little about her. There were things I knew, yes, and there were things I didn't that I wanted to. She was beautiful, that much I knew.

As I regarded her, she noticed my staring and asked, "What?"

"All I've wanted to do since you started chasing me is make love to you. Would you be interested in that or will I have to bide my time and convince you?" I stated rather bluntly. I looked her directly in the eye as I said it and watched her face very closely. She was very good at hiding her emotions.

She elegantly sat back in her chair and gave me a look over before she looked back out at the picturesque scene before her. She appeared to be in deep, deep thought. She finally turned back and smiled very demurely at me, which was probably a stretch for her. She spoke softly and her words were for only my ears to hear. And she was perfectly serious as she spoke.

"That depends, Lash. Are you going to buy me a drink and woo me, or am I going to have to kill you and leave your body to rot?"

So I took another sip of my drink and smiled serenely at her. Ah yes, it was going to be a memorable night indeed.

_**Read and review! Like it? Hate it? I don't care which, just let me know! Fun fact: Troilus and Cressida was one of Shakespeare's most unpopular plays. Sorry about the typo, but this one-chot was presented in the wat it was published... almost.  
**_


	12. Fingers

Yet another failed attempt at trying to start another chapter story in this category. I hate to whine, but where did all the freaking writers go? All I see is Warren-OC fics. Damn, and I thought some of these, at least SOME might get some attention, even if you like OC's, they aren't bad. Maybe not fantastic, but I can spell... for the most part. I have interesting plots... okay, maybe only interesting to me... but... Oh, never mind. Looks like I'll just have to go back to the labyrinth, where they won't freaking leave me ALONE. It's just... this movie had so much potential, and I was so able to get into it... but, if that's what you want, Warren-OC lovers... the same girl, different names... in my own limited opinion, of course. Maybe there's something there, but I just never could view Warren with someone outside the group. I don't get it. Why not Maj/ Warren? They were alike, she was fiery, she didn't take his crap, she's hot. Why not Maj?

They called themselves a lot of things. The Plague, the Madness, League of Darkness, League of Chaos, League of Shadows, and the Flood. You could tell they were a generation of kids who grew up on television and video games. Nobody had taken them seriously at first, and he could see why. Just a bunch of stupid kids. Couldn't even decide on a name for themselves. Couldn't agree on what to go after. Liked to spend most their time on the Internet. Just kids.

"_Kids who are numbering in the millions." _

Kids entirely without souls, who moved as a group. Kids of every nation, race, religion, and orientation. All of them under twenty. All of them killing and laughing and singing and taking on the U.S. Military with the help of people like him, who didn't really turn out for the hero side. An unbelievable and freak revolution that went the world over, with no plausible catalyst and no end in sight. No reason, no rhyme, no _why. _Just death and devastation.

Children with too much time on their hands.

"_Idle hands do the Devil's work."_

They all were very striking, though. He had never seen them so close before. Their image was something straight out of a shitty graphic novel. A legion of them, in black jackets of various cuts, black pants of various brands and various dollar store Halloween masks were before _her_, trying to look somewhat alike. They had been told people would be more likely to fear them if they dressed in a similar fashion, wore dark colors, and hid their faces. The end result was a wave of black that had swept over the land like a dark fire, with a faceless enemy.

It made them easy to hate when you couldn't see their faces.

"_We're worth hating. We're worth fearing, too."_

They were all too young, every single one of them. Too easy to manipulate. They had no idea they were being used. They thought they were shaping the world into what they wanted. But he knew the truth. They were shaping the world into what a handful of crafty bastards wanted. Tools. Sheep. But still people, unfortunately. And he was required to try and save them, or the world from them. He smirked at that. They never taught him how to save the world from the world.

He turned back to the west, eying her outline. With fingers splayed horizontally, parallel to the setting sun, she turned back to give a vicious, come-hither smile. She wore a punk black leather jacket made for a man bigger than she and fingerless black gloves, and she wore them well. Her hair had come undone in the fray and now it was wafting softly in the wind, wild in a way that suited her nature, but was rarely seen by anyone. She liked to play it cool in high school. Cold, even. But now she was in her element.

Beautiful.

"We did it, Warren. I told you we would. You said we couldn't, but we did. A fucking revolution!" She grinned ruthlessly, all of her perfect white teeth gleaming at him magnetically.

Cackling laughter followed her words, lifting her already high spirits and pushing him down deeper in his hole. They would follow her into Hell, of that he was sure. Shit, even _he_ felt the lull of her power when she was like this. She wasn't the indifferent bitch with an attitude here. Here she was the bloody mother of war and Hell. All of these kids saw her as a saint, an angel, or a Goddess, even. They would die for her.

He shook his head at her sadly.

"We felt cheated and lied to our whole lives. They told us we would never be anything better than second-class. No one ever took us seriously. Now look at us!" She gestured wildly around herself. A chorus of cheering and glorifying went into the air.

They loved her.

He had to say he loved her too.

"_'Another rebellion in a sea of revolutions'_. Sound familiar?" Warren said tiredly. Her words had been floating through his head all day.

She turned jerkily around to him, her demeanor once flushed with pride and joy now awash with anger and rage. A mild freak-out. Her eyes now matched her wild hair.

"What gives you the fucking right to use my own words against me? You had no idea what I was talking about then, and you're taking it out of context now!" She was shaking. Her words were venomous. "_This_ is the revolution to end all revolutions! There will never be a need for another rebellion after us! We're _saving_ what's left of this fucked world and you _never_ understood that."

He ran his hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. She was too far gone for him to reach. He was tired of fighting her. He loved her, he didn't want to destroy her, or anything she believed so strongly in. But... she was hurting people now and ruining more futures than she was saving. She'd always had to hide her passion when she was younger. Now that she was older, and had never given it an outlet, it made her slightly crazed and obsessed with her cause.

He felt sorry for her, and sorry for himself. He knew this was coming. He had just wanted her to be happy. But he had never intended to let it get this far.

"_Firecracker spirit girl without a wild enough cause."_

"You sound like a tyrant." He said quietly. Could she see the pain she was causing him? He probably would die without her. Then again, he might die _with _her. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He had always just wanted her too be happy. He wanted to be in love and be happy.

Why could they just be normal?

He heard the loud slap more than felt it. He didn't have much feeling left in his body, actually. Numb from shell shock, he guessed. He knew he looked distant. Pretty soon the rest of him would be in that distant lala land.

"_I am not a tyrant! I am a fucking revolution!_" She screamed in his face.

"All revolutions are born of tyrants." He said doggedly.

She wheeled away from him in anger. "Oh, and _you_ never wanted to become the very thing they called you? Like you're somehow different from me? Holier? I was willing to do what it takes to have the world I wanted, and that make me a tyrant?"

"Yes."

Another loud slap.

"What gives you the _right_?!" She screeched, her voice grating like nails down a chalkboard. Didn't the sea of children see her for what she was, right now? She was having a tantrum, and they were still willing to destroy the earth in her name? Where was the logic in that? Where did she get such an ungodly power?

"What gave you the right?" You said forcefully, but not angrily, unlike himself today. He gestured behind her, to the city that was slowly burning itself out, eerily quiet. There were no sounds of frantic people and cars leaving, like only hours before. There was nothing but the dull roar of fire consuming. If an explosion sounded somewhere, it would bring out cheers from her little legion. But there was no one left alive in the city.

No one.

"_They _did! They made me, no, _us_ try to be something we are not! We are the future, they are the past! They can't control us anymore, we are free to make our lives what we want!"

"And damn the consequences?"

"Don't you get it? I—we did this for you! Everything you and I have ever wanted! A little respect! Some change in the basic food chain! We are no longer societies puppets! We are free to be who we really are!"

"And this is the person you really are? An evil bitch who kills innocent--"

"Don't you _ever_ call those bastards innocent! No one, anywhere, everywhere, is ever, ever innocent. They never have been. Everyone hurts someone to get their reward, and we just happened to be the people to fight back."

"And you got exactly what you deserved. A burning city, empty of all life." He shook his head. "This isn't what I wanted. This isn't even what you wanted."

She tried to slap him again, but he caught her hand easily with his. He held it gently as he spoke, aware that many an eye and gun was trained on him. She laughed at him bitterly.

"Oh? And what did I want?"

Warren leaned closer to her face, his eyes full of hers, wanting her to really feel what he was about to say. If these were going to be his last words, he wanted her to remember them.

"You wanted love. You wanted kids. You wanted to be apart of something great, and good. You wanted to save the world or die trying. You wanted...well, you wanted me."

"Pig." She scoffed.

"Doesn't make it any less true. I love you, Magenta, I always have."

And something miraculous began to happen. Tears began to shimmer in her eyes, her hand in his shook slightly. No one would really notice the change unless they were as close as Warren was, but it didn't matter. He saw it, it was there. It was real. That's all that mattered now.

"Then why... didn't you stop it?" She begged quietly. No one but Warren could hear her.

"Because love is a choice. If you really love someone, you let them make their own choices." Warren said softly, ending with a soft kiss on her forehead. Her skin was feverish, possibly from being so riled up. Possibly because she was always hot blooded, no matter how she tried to hide it.

"Even if that choice hurts someone else?" Her suddenly quiet voice wavered.

"You can't force people to choose the right thing." He thought he felt the world shift uncomfortably...

"But sometimes you can stop them from making a terrible mistake." She whispered softly, her breath touching his ears hotly, feeling more like a stiff wind...

....

Warren's eyes snapped open, and he suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline as he fell out of his dream and into the waking world. It had felt so real, he actually wiped at his ear and looked around him to make sure no one was around, playing a prank on him. But there was no one. Just his messy bedroom, and his stupid computer game, still running for some reason.

Still, he felt... like it was a message. A premonition. This time, the dream had been different. He felt wide awake, he knew he wouldn't be going back to bed. And most importantly, he felt like giving Maj a call... but when he looked at the clock, he cringed. It was already passed three, she would NOT appreciate a call from him this late... of this early, depending on how you looked at it.

Such a freaking intense dream... bits of it were already slipping away into the darkness, but the unease he felt was only growing stronger. He decided that it didn't matter if it was late, he was going to call. He needed to hear her voice. He even probably needed to tell a thing of two to her. He didn't feel like waiting until lunch at school tomorrow, the earliest he'd probably see her, since she skipped morning classes all the time.

He grabbed his phone, a stupid track one he rarely used since he hated calling people and hated it when people called him, and nearly yanked it off the charger trying to get Magenta's number in fast enough. He didn't really know what the rush was, but he just felt, well, _lead_ to call her. And urgently.

It rang. And rang. And went to her obnoxious voice mail, the one with her painfully strumming out terrible guitar notes instead of saying anything. She really, really couldn't play. But he called again. And again.

He knew she probably was sleeping, but she didn't sleep with her phone off, in case one of her friends needed her. Well, he needed her. Where was she?

Instead of just waiting to try again in the morning, and since he was wired already, Warren decided to make a quick little trip to her house. So quick, in fact, he threw on his leather jacket, and his shoes, not realizing it might look weird to show up in just you pajama pants and a jacket.

His mom was asleep, so he took the car. It made the trip a lot faster, and mom would never have to know. Just a quick little trip. Nothing big, he just wanted to see her.

Nothing big.

So why was his heart pounding when he tapped on her window? Where were her foster parents' car? Why was it taking so damn long for her to respond? Why was he so worried suddenly that he actually opened the window and climbed in?

Because.

Because Magenta was sitting on her knees in her room, holding a wicked looking kitchen knife in one hand, and a pair of panties in the other. The room held a malevolence that he had never felt before... well, once, around his father. But he couldn't think about that now. He also squashed the thought that he was tired of saving other people, because he realized that he wasn't tired of that, so much as he was tired of them needing to be saved.

She stared off into space, looking distant and shaken. She'd been crying, but now she was done. She looked... empty. Like Maj wasn't home. And it looked like something nasty was trying to take over.

"Maj?"

Warren touched her shoulder, and narrowly missed having his fingers cut off in the process. She scuttled away in terror like he'd never seen, brandishing the knife like she would surely die without it. She looked like she was trying to scream, but she'd obviously screamed so hard she could no longer make out the sounds.

It tore him apart to see her like this. This was something he would never shake... an image he could never make fade. She was so scared, so _angry_... She might kill herself with that damn knife in her hand...

"Maj... calm down... it's me, Warren..." He said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He wasn't really made for these situations, he just kept landing into them.

She continued to silently scream, tears running down her face as her arms fell, as if under a great weight, like she had no strength left. She kept holding them up though, curled in the corner as she was, nothing but a t-shirt, fending off an army of unseen foes...

The darkness of the room could not disguise what the moon had lit up. Warren had slowly approached her, and her quiet shrieks of torment faded away as her face crumpled into sobs. She dropped the knife, and it glittered in the moonlight as it fell. Not far from it, her underwear... which he normally would have ignored... especially given the present time and place... but they looked undeniably... bloody...

"Maj..." He said as realization slowly dawned on him. He looked around the room with more adjusted eyes to see that her room, which wasn't nearly as messy as his, looked like a tornado... no, a struggle had taken place. Her bed... looked pushed of the box spring, like a team of football players had been jumping on it.

He tried not to comprehend, but it wouldn't stop forming in his mind.

He reached out to her, and she tried weakly to swat him away. He held her wrists, bruised wrists, in his hands gently. He tugged softly on her arms, and she fell into his, trying to get away, but trying to cling to him at the same time.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't want to know. He didn't need to know.

"Hurt...so bad..." her voice came out more like air than actual words.

He held her loosely, not even knowing where to begin, what to say. So he said nothing.

"Screamed... and screamed... no one came. No one." Her body was wracked with sobs, and he was afraid if she cried any harder she would tear herself apart. No joke.

"Shh.. it's... going to be okay..." he felt like a fool saying that to her. But she didn't seem to hear him.

"I couldn't change... not with him inside me..." she said, as if trying to defend herself, miserably begging for it to stop in her mind, as if it were still going on... He wished she would stop. Each word was too hard for him to hear.

"Maj... you need a hospital..."

She gripped him tightly, nails, or what was left of them, digging painfully into his skin.

"No! They'll know! He'll know... He'll find me...Please don't let them know, please don't let them see me..." He logic, though flawed, made perfect sense to her.

For a while, he held her, agonizing over what to do. She needed a hospital, but he wouldn't want to take her if she was so freaked out by it. Hadn't there been enough damage?

He hadn't gotten there fast enough.

This was his fault.

"Forgive me..." He begged her, reluctant tears touching his own cheeks. "God, Maj, forgive me..."

How could she ever forgive him...


	13. A World Never

I give up. I hate reading back over others stories only to realize that people took the name for my fic, War and Peace, and I would bitch more, but it's my own fault for making such an unoriginal title, even if I did do it first. But here I am, complaining again. Sorry.

Anyway, this story would have been my biggest venture, hopefully better than the mess that Reality Bends became. I had it all plotted out. But, there just wasn't enough interest, as usual, and then my interest began to wane. Still, I think the premise is good, and anyone has my permission to use the premises of my stories, as long as ya all give me a shout out. Then I won't feel so useless. Heh.

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"I-I think I've lost my power." His lower lip was trembling, his hands were shaking and he was sweating. All signs that he was telling the truth.

No wonder he had looked so sick. Pale was something Zack had always been... to some extent. But he had also been loud, boisterous... something he was not now. He was the laughter of their group and the class clown of their graduating class. Nothing had ever been able to take that away. Nothing until now.

He was gripping the steering wheel like it was holding him together. His knuckles blanched with effort. If he had been Will, the steering wheel would have been gone. But if he had been Will, it would have been someone else driving her home from the funeral. Because if Zack had been Will, Zack would have committed suicide five days ago.

And she still couldn't believe Will was dead. She also couldn't believe that Layla hadn't even tried to attend the funeral. And she couldn't believe what Zack was saying. It had happened to Will. It was happening to more and more of her old classmates. It was happening to their parents. She still couldn't believe it.

And it had already happened to her.

"I don't know what to say, Zack. We didn't exactly have enviable abilities before." She sighed.

"Maybe you don't mind having a piece of what makes you who you are ripped out for no reason and with no warning, but I do, okay?" Zack snapped, uncharacteristically tense. "I thought you of all people would understand."

Now it was her turn to snap. She had never been into pity parties (except her own, she had to admit). "I've always hated my power, Zack. Always. I didn't use it to begin with. If anything, that damn power has kept me from having a real life. I was kept out of a regular school where I could learn something useful, like balancing a check book. I don't miss it."

"You learned how to help defend the people against unnatural odds. It's what your father did. It's what I do...did." He voice trembled. "And maybe you didn't take your assigned 'hero support' seriously, but I did. I mean, this is my life. What am I supposed to do now?"

"I quit being a side-kick the day we graduated. I was not into being picked out like a slave."

"You sound like Layla."

"Please."

His driving was a little bit off. She had hardly noticed during the course of the conversation, but he was driving more and more erratically. It was understandable, with the loss of his powers and the loss of a dear friend. It was only when he ran a stop light that she barked at him to keep it on the road.

"Oh who gives a shit? It's not like the cops ever catch anyone anyway. Lazy bastards." Zack commented bitterly, accelerating. It wasn't like him at all. Not that he really had much respect for the boys in blue in the first place, but he had never been so openly critical.

It was only more ironic when lights flared up behind them instantly. Zack slowed to a halt and slammed his head down on the steering wheel in defeat.

She glared at him. "You damn jinx."

"Just what I need. The perfect end to the perfect day." He grimaced, his voice cracking. Tears of frustration actually leaked from his eyes.

She didn't comment. She decided to leave him with at least that much dignity.

"Maj... I'm so sorry. I just... can't understand why he would do this to us... I know he had lost his powers, but..." Zack sat up, wiped his face, and reached for his registration. "I had told him how I was losing mine... both of his parents had already lost theirs... why? Why now, why leave us now? He seemed to be handling it so much better!"

Maj had to disagree with Zack there. Will may have looked like he was handling it, but she could see that he wasn't hanging in there. He had felt he'd been cheated of something. He'd been angry, depressed... he'd given up his superhero ranking, he was a lousy real estate agent, Layla would spend less and less time with him... without meaning to, of course. But she was still a superhero with superhero duties. And Will... was a nobody.

"Zack..."Her voice was soft, something that drew Zack's attention easily. This was one of those rare private moments when she wasn't going to be hard on him. She only ever did this with her friends, and even then only one on one, once in a blue moon.

She drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. The day was warm, crisp, and extremely bright and sunny. Maxville, where Will had been born and now was buried, was moving brightly along, blissfully unaware that they had very little protection from outside threats. One of the reasons she had moved to Seattle,Washington. And Maxville, the home of all superheroes, was always the first target of villains, always.

But... with the loss of power among superheroes, there was also a decrease in power among villains. Pretty soon, she mused, it would just be old fashioned bad guys, versus old fashioned good guys, the way God probably intended. And she didn't really feel like that was a loss. But she knew Zack felt that loss.

"Zack, Will may have had super strength physically, but he was not stronger than you or I when it comes to loss. He just let it get the better of him. He was human, and that realization scared him, literally, to death. It could have been any one of us. It was just a moment of weakness that got the better of him."

The coward, she thought bitterly. Her words to Zack only concealed what she felt about the whole thing. She wasn't ashamed to admit to herself that she was disgusted with Will. It went against everything he taught them. Everything he was. Of all the times, when their fearless leader was needed most, by Zack, by Layla...She wasn't ready to forgive him.

"No." Zack said with some degree of strength. "_No_. I believe that Will was more than just a man with super powers. He was raised better than that. His dad lost his powers, and _he _didn't commit suicide. So where was Will's logic?"

He had her there. She wasn't sure why she was so willing to believe Will would do it. Maybe because she was just so pissed that it had happened regardless. Her own emotions were a mystery to her. And she was so tired of losing people she loved. So tired of feeling the hurt. So damn tired...

The officer walked up to them asking for license and registration. Zack handed them to the cop without a word.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" The officer asked boredly.

"Because my day wouldn't be complete without you?" Zack asked in return.

Magenta smacked him. "Officer, we're coming from our friend's funeral..."

And then, for Magenta, it was all to real.

She burst into tears.

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	14. Falling is not Flying

Disclaimer: I haven't written in two years and I think this is crap, but when I came to check on my favorite category I felt bad about all the OC's and decided to try my hand at a little mystery. This is unedited, and the characters are not mine, you have been warned.

Falling feels like flying, but it's not. Eventually, you hit the ground.

There's no poetry in it, so don't kid yourself. There no beauty in death, either. There's nothing but a cold corpse that looks nothing like you were when you were alive. You don't look like you're sleeping. You look like a poorly made clay doll that has been painted over with the cheap make-up that you buy when you're just starting to learn to use it. Applied by someone who has no taste and could care less about the colors you would have used when you were alive, or if you even used makeup.

That's falling. That's death.

Some other things Maj had learned since high school about her "chosen" profession, (let's be honest, you wouldn't pick to help people with your power as sidekick.): You have to save people you don't like.

Rarely to bad guys really ever get their comeuppance. In fact, jerks who feel they have a right to treat you like crap because they feel in some way superior to you usually end up with some sort of hold over you.

It's because you're a good person and they aren't that they can do that to you, That's also why you're viewed as weak by more classic villains.

Maj shoved the key into her lock angrily, wishing for the millionth time she had her friend's various better powers. Being stuck in the back seat of a cramped truck for four hours while some does seventy miles per hour to meet a deadline for a paper route on a country road made her wish she had Warren's ability to burn people who were that inconsiderate.

She also wished that she had Will's super strength so she could knock people though walls like the history professor who for a good hour screamed at her for not knowing the history of why we bundle silverware. She thought that maybe a good blow to his elitist skull might let her say, "Yeah, I may not know shit about shit, but I can knock your ugly teeth in, and all that schooling you did means squat now, huh?"

She grinned wickedly at that thought. The key finally slipped into the lock as she fumbled around in the dark for the light to her apartment. The light outside was broken, making it twice as hard for her to find her way around the entrance to her hovel. And naturally, it was raining hard to make her night complete. She cursed not having the outdoor light.

An obnoxious meow let her know she was late coming home, as a skinny black cat with an apathetic outlook watched her from his perch on her bookshelf. Syd, the master of the home and quite unimpressed with her bad day, announced loudly again that she was in trouble for some perceived slight.

Magenta gave him the stink eye and shushed him. He was the reason her porch light wasn't fixed. She'd be so dead if the landlord found out she was harboring a fugitive like Syd. But he was her faithful companion. Well, sort of faithful and sort of a companion. Mostly he liked to complain about everything, but as least she didn't have to come home to an empty apartment anymore.

Not like when she'd been living with Zach, and they'd been planning on getting married. She'd have the gang over and she and Layla would plan... well, Layla would plan, as Maj wasn't much for it, and Maj would roll her eyes at the lot of friends she'd been given. Zach and Will would watch T.V. And it would be a video game channel which she would swear up and down was for nerds and they would swear up and down they were only watching it because nothing else would be on. Oh those had been happy, if a little bit stressful times. Incredibly busy times. But happy. Good times.

Suddenly the apartment was a lot more empty.

Magenta immediately went into the kitchen for a drink of water, despite the rain, she'd been parched all day. Those bastards in the truck had only stopped once. She would never go out with a coworker again, she vowed bitterly. It wasn't what she had in mind for her day off, but she admitted she had to get out of her comfort zone once in a while.

But their house smelled like mildew.

She sighed. She went to find her cell phone and listened to her voice mail, with all of one message in it. It was from her little sister, telling her that she didn't think marrying Zack was a good idea. Her sister, Amanda, was rambling on about how she loved him to pieces, but she thought that Magenta "needed more time to develop as a person on her own before weighing herself down in marriage because you can't do that when you're married...blah blah blah...you're not ready, you're just too young to be doing this..."

Magenta looked down at her phone with a disgusted look. Her little sister was telling her this. A year after she announced she was getting married. Amanda and she had never gotten along. Amanda didn't really know Magenta very well, in fact. She was rather disconnected from the rest of the family.

So it would make sense that Amanda did not know Zach was dead, and had been for seven months.

Maj deleted the message with no intention of calling her back.

She couldn't decide which part of that hurt her the most, or if it really hurt at all, on top of everything. She didn't really feel like letting this little barb in. Maj felt a black depression settling in, and fought to stave it off. She threw down her cell phone on the couch, having turned it off. She needed a little time alone, she guessed. Funny how just a moment ago she'd been feeling a pang of loneliness.

And of course, any mention of Zach made her eyes wander over to Syd, who always sat next to his picture, one of Zach trying to look oh-so-cool while battling that geeky, lanky look he had naturally. It was her favorite, and she'd moved it from the bedroom so she wouldn't cry over it anymore.

But it wasn't there.

She had a moment of surprise, then fear as she went over to the shelf and unceremoniously shoved the cat over to look for her beloved picture. She tossed down books and went over to the couch, pulling up cushions and looked over and under various bits of furniture.

But her picture of Zach was gone.

She ran into the bedroom for the first time since coming home, only to realize that her bedroom had been ransacked. Really, really ransacked. The TV was on the ground in a pile of what had been the screen, her dresser and nightstand were overturned, her mattress had been torn up and bits of fluff were every where.

She looked through her room with a physically sickening sense of violation and hatred for whoever had done this, mentally ripping the guy a new one. Or calling Will up to do it. And as she looked, she realized she could not find her photo albums. Her jewelry (really her mother's), her radio and well, she guessed her TV, were basically left alone, save for the fact that her TV was busted.

She jumped up to call Layla, wondering if she should call the police due to her association with the heroes. She was a nervous mess, angry and disturbed, frustrated and feeling helpless, and she wanted the satisfaction of hurting whoever had the audacity--

She was grabbed around the waist forcefully, her mouth immediately covered with an arm dressed in black. It was someone tall, as they had to curve around her to keep her steady as she thrashed violently, cursing and biting, though it felt like this guy (he was so flat chested it had to be a guy) had come prepared and was wearing something to protect his arms.

She couldn't focus on shifting to escape his grasp. That took serene meditation that she did not currently possess and could not try for it.

"Stop. Stop. _Stop._" Said a voice rather calmly, although rather annoyed, sounding ever so slightly familiar.

She did not dare stop.

"Listen, gerbil girl, if you don't knock it off, I won't be able to tell you about your stupid, stupid, _alive _boyfriend."

And her world froze.


End file.
